


I Can't Hold All These Fics - Gore/Kink/Whumptober 2020 Collection

by MahTohSka



Category: A Heist With Markiplier, Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Amputee, Blood, Bondage, Branding, Cannibalism, Character Death, Double Penetration, Gen, Gore, Goretober 2020, Horror, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Hypnosis, Infatuation, Kinktober 2020, Knifeplay, M/M, Mark dies in a couple of these, Non/Dub-Con, Non/Dub-Con Elements, Other, Painplay, Sex Toys, Shibari, Tentacles, Torture, Wax Play, Whipping, Whumptober 2020, death/resurrection, if there's more i will add them, let's start with the heavy stuff then, reader snuff/death, there's so many of these it's hard to lump all the tags for them together, wow where to begin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 39,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27658130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MahTohSka/pseuds/MahTohSka
Summary: You heard of Goretober. You heard of Kinktober. And you heard of Whumptober. But what if I told you one person set out to combine all three lists for 2020 and made some drabbles? Me. I'm one person. I did it.These vary in characters and prompts and tags. Obviously some of these aren't going to be everyone's cup of tea. But I will say I got back in touch with my love for horror when writing some of them, and I was successful in writing each day's prompt and it was a blast. It's a good writing exercise!
Relationships: Captain magnum/reader, Darkiplier/Actor!Mark, Darkiplier/Wilford Warfstache, Illinois/reader, Mark Fischbach/Reader, male character/Mark Fishbach
Comments: 8
Kudos: 61





	1. Fresh Pork

**Author's Note:**

> Right off the bat, as it says in the tags, Mark as a character does die in a couple, and I know that will upset some folks. It's not everyone's thing, you can certainly skip this first one. They're not all interconnected so honestly you can read whichever one first. 
> 
> My method for this Megatober thing was to take the prompt from the three lists and make a drabble out them. There were a few days where one prompt didn't match up well with the other two so if you see a drabble/fic with two prompts, I dropped that third one cos it didn't work out well. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, if you read only a small handful or all of them! Any kudos and comments are much appreciated! And on that note ...
> 
> DAY ONE!  
> Prompt: Butcher shop/Hanging (waking up restrained, shackled)/sex toy or strap on

Pain. Pain in your ribs, pain in your wrists, just pain all around. You shiver from the cold environment, your head lolling on a sore neck; your eyes slowly crack open, gasping once they focus more and find yourself in a cold storage in what you assumed was a butcher shop. Halves of pork and beef hung on hooks, the smell of aging meat hung in the air over the sound of the fans keeping the temperature cold. You heard a groan to your left, through the hanging halves you spot a familiar form shackled and chained like you – Mark. You both were hanging on hooks with a pair of shackles looped around the metal hook, but Mark seemed to be chained up differently than you.

His legs were bound in a manner so that his calves touched his thighs, arms were pinned behind him, the forearms parallel in the back, a harness was hooked to the apparatus. His head hung back over a shoulder, his wavy fluffy hair bouncing as his head went forward, hearing a groan come from him. At least he was alive. But he was completely naked – or what you could see anyway. Who did this to you two, and why did they keep the both of you in here like this?

Your question was answered when the door to the cold storage slid open, two figures stood in the doorway. A slender man with an air of reputability and a hidden danger slowly smirked, the woman next to him – a built but tall woman that had a look of a predator all the time, had a corner of her lips curled up.

“So. The meat awakes,” the man spoke, stepping into the room, walking past you and over to Mark. You wish you could see him, but from Mark’s perspective the man approached him with a sick grin on his face. His thin and bony hands ran along Mark’s shivering form, cupping a pectoral and tweaked the nipple. Mark grunted at the sensation, writhing in his bound position. It ramped a little bit when his mouth sucked on a hard tit, the bound man groaning; his mind fighting his body to not react, but his sensitive nipples gave way to a series of moans that were soft and stifling. The man pulled back, satisfied with his response, flicking a chain pull and pushed Mark as the rail system brought Mark finally over to face you.

Now you saw that he really was naked, his bound form writhing on the hook that kept him inches off the ground; his eyes found yours, seeing the terror in them, the two of you thinking the same thing – you both were going to die here. The stout woman came forward, blocking your view of Mark. She gripped his jaw with a strong hand, staring him straight in the eyes, brushing his long hair back, fingers combing through his hair until she had a tight grip and pulled harsh; Mark hissed and groaned at the pull, twisting about in his confines.

“We’re gonna have a little fun with you,” she grinned maniacally. “But we can’t have you squirming like this, fuckmeat.” She stood to his side, glancing over at you. “Your little playmate here is gonna watch, won’t they?” The cruel grin spread wider, turning back to face Mark. “They’re gonna watch every second of your last moments on earth, meat. They can cry and scream all they want, but that won’t do anything to save you.”

Mark shivered, heartbeat and breath quickening. “P-please … let us go …,” he softly pleaded. “We – we didn’t do anything …”

“You two came in here looking like fresh meat to replace our specialty ground pork we got in the counter,” she scoffed at him. “And I bet you taste the juiciest.” She let go of his head, grabbing two hooks and placed them on a stationary railing. The man bent to wrap his arms around Mark’s waist and with her help they lifted him off the hook he was hanging from; you pleaded and cried out to stop this before a scream erupted from Mark, bellowing – he was hung on the two hooks from the back, the metal had pierced into his shoulders, the tips of the hooks poking out through his shoulders from the front, blood running down his torso.

He breathed in a rapid pace before letting out another bloodcurdling scream, Mark’s face twisted in pain, tears streaming down his face as he cried loudly. The man was fashioning e-stim pads at his pubic region and a couple bullet vibes near the head of Mark’s exposed cock, turning the pads and vibes on; Mark wanted to writhe and twist but that only made the hooks go deeper and more through his body if he did so, causing him to bellow in pain. You were frozen and silent in sheer horror as you watched Mark’s body get further violated, the woman getting a strap on fixed on herself, lubing the dildo and Mark’s hole up. Mark’s pained cries simmered down to whimpers and whines, his cock twitching from the stimulation; mind and body fought against the pleasure and extreme pain wracking his body, the added prodding and fingering in his hole didn’t help his situation.

“Please let us go!” you shout at them, wincing and screaming for them to stop as the woman with the strap pushed the toy in Mark’s cavity, he cried the entire time it sunk into him until her hips were flushed with his ass.

The man was back to teasing and playing with Mark’s buff pectorals and nipples, kneading the soft flesh and suckling on his areolas. It was a disgusting sight to watch, you couldn’t watch any longer, closing your eyes but the sounds of the man and woman’s moans couple with Mark’s pained and soon hoarse whimpers and cries were constant. Minutes ticked by. You opened your eyes to see Mark had gone limp, but he was still breathing, his chest heaving while his body was used by the sick couple. His eyes were glazed over and blank as he was accepting this cruel and twisted fate. This is how his life was going to end. Tears rolled down your face, whimpering and whispering his name over and over to give you some kind of comfort.

His body had betrayed him and came on the floor, cum dripping in a steady stream; the woman pulled out of him, she gave his ass a firm groping, reaching a hand around and fondled his pecs as well, the man grabbing a device that looked like a pistol, coming back over and brushed back hair that had hung in Mark’s face, placing the barrel square in the middle of his forehead.

You flinched as the captive bolt pistol went off, the man stepping aside to reveal a hole in the middle of Mark’s forehead, his body going completely limp, head hanging back. You watched the life fade from Mark’s eyes, screaming and cry his name over and over; no sooner did the man now step in front of you with the same bolt pistol aimed directly at your forehead. Loaded and ready to do its task of ending your life as well. You sobbed and begged to be let go, your protests cut short when the bolt pistol pin pierced your skull, body slowly sagging in the chains.

A sign read on the counter three days later – ‘FRESH GROUND SPECIALTY PORK! NEW FLAVOR AND SEASONING!’


	2. You Look Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Chains/Kidnapped & collared/choking & deepthroat
> 
> Characters - Reader, Darkiplier

You weren’t sure how you got here. It was night when you were walking home, a cold breeze had come up from behind you and – darkness. Did you randomly pass out on the sidewalk? No. You weren’t prone to narcolepsy either. You had found yourself chained to a single stationary stake in an empty void; the irons heavy on your wrists and ankles, a collar around your neck, but it was not connected to the chains. It was velvet or fur lined, made of fine leather, a single O ring dangled in front, and reaching back you saw that the collar was padlocked around your neck. Great. Good luck trying to get out of this one.

A high pitched tone came to your ears and what sounded like a television glitching and static filled the void as the glitching appeared in front of you. A figure stepped out from a random doorway that appeared out of nowhere. He was smartly dressed in a dark suit, hair parted with curls hanging to one side almost covering half his face but you could see the chiseled visage well. A two tone colored aura of red and blue surrounded him, his lips faintly curled into a grin as the figure looked down at you. His footsteps were commanding and heavy, his shoulders swayed like that of a predator’s, his dark eyes pinning you down even though you were very well chained to the unmovable stake keeping you from wandering. He finally stopped inches from you, looking down upon you like a god staring at his creation, dark eyes soft and smiling. Him – he was the one who kidnapped you when you least expected it to happen.

 _“What a stunning face,”_ he softly purred, leaning down, his hand reaching out to caress you. You shiver from the cold touch, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone, now the other chilly hand joining. _“Exquisite.”_ He looked fascinated, no – infatuated with you. The tender but icy touches made you shiver, wanting to reel away from him but those hands held an unseen power and force to snap your neck at any given moment. He pulled one hand away to give a snap of his fingers – you felt the collar around you tighten. Another snap, another notch … and another … and another.

Air was slowly being cut off from you, but he stopped after the fourth one. You still had air to breathe but it was scarce. He knew what he was doing.

Dark held your chin in his hand, the thumb brushing your bottom lip, inserting it into your mouth. His soft features had fallen away to more stern and jagged looks, daggers staring into you. Your lips reluctantly closed around his thumb as you sucked on it, a deep purr came from Dark; the thumb was replaced his four fingers, shoving them into your mouth harshly, his other hand on the back of your head, gagging you with his hand in your maw. If the choking wasn’t enough, he gave another snap with his free hand, the air coming in and out of your lungs definitely scarcer now, your gasps and breathing are wheezing, shallow. Eyes nearly rolling up in your head. But – for some reason … you enjoyed it.

He removed his hand, wiping excess saliva on your face as he stands, pulling a semi-hard shaft out, stroking it steadily as Dark neared again, forcing your mouth open as he slid his length all the way down your throat. Your eyes water, tears starting to roll down the corners as your forced to deepthroat him while being choked by the collar around your neck. You gag and try to breathe, but it hardly came to you as he pushes and pulls your head up and down his shaft, your lips subconsciously forming a seal around his shaft, his hips meeting your head in steady thrusts. Ultimately you’re forced to deepthroat for a second and third time, snot and spit and saliva mixing together from the messy forced blowjob; Dark comes down your throat, pulling out again as the last remaining streaks of white hit your face.

He snaps his fingers again and – the collar is back to how loose it was when you first woke up. You could breathe again. You are thrown in a harsh coughing fit, his cold hand on your head petting your hair.

 _“You looked so beautiful choking on me like that,”_ Dark purred. _“Good toy.”_


	3. Kneel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 - Normal at first glance/forced to their knees/degredation 
> 
> Characters - Reader, Actor Mark

You felt out of place. You stood among a sea of strangers at a lavish party thrown at a grand manor thrown by a man you hardly knew but an invitation had come your way - you lived in the area, you supposed it was a friendly neighbor gesture from the manor's owner for wanting to host a soiree for fellow residents. But you hardly knew the other people, having recently moved to this part of the city. You accepted and brought yourself here - now what? 

You were lost in your own thoughts when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around you came face to face with a handsome man with slicked back raven hair and gorgeous brown eyes that shined in the lighting; his gold skin went well with his crimson velvet jacket and black bowtie outfit, his trousers crisp and black, his shoes the same color that shined as much as the floor the two of you stood on. 

"I apologize, but, I couldn't help noticing you to be looking like a fish out of water in this crowd," he calmly spoke, a soft smile on his lips. "I was in that position once when I first came here to make a name for myself. Now I'm a household name. Well, hope to be anyway for a long time." He flashed a charming smile which made your brain click and realize who he was - the actor, Mark. Of course! You've seen a picture or two of his, he's a brilliant actor. And you now recognized the name on the invitation - M. Fischbach.

"Oh, yes!" you stammer out. "Forgive me, I'm a little star struck, but, um, thank you for the invitation. It's a nice party."

The soft grin on Mark's lips stayed, his face warm and welcoming. "Why don't you and I go to a quieter spot, hm? And no need to be star struck. I'm just as human as you are." You gave a nod as you followed his lead to a different part of the manor. Right, he was normal, just like everyone else here. You figure he's had enough people fawn over him, no need to add yourself to the roster. 

He brought you to a smaller gathering area, a library and study of some sort. There were other people gathered and sitting patiently in leather chairs and the sofa; glancing about the room there were six in total, they all seemed to be staring at you with a hidden hunger - what it was you were unsure of. The door you came through was gently closed shut, the turn of the lock made you uneasy - why … were you brought here? 

"Are we all waiting for something?" you naively asked. The six started to lightly chuckle, your furrowed brows met Mark's stare but his gaze was different from when you first met him. His dark eyes were not welcoming, but feral, domineering; a cold and predator stare bored into you, making your blood run cold and freeze on the spot. 

"We are waiting for something, dear guest," Mark stepped to the center of the room. "You." Your heart nearly stopped when he said that. Mark snapped his fingers and pointed down at his feet. "Now, come." 

Your feet were stuck to the rug, hands clamming up, shivering from the dangerous glare the actor gave you. He snapped his fingers again, pointing down. "I said - come." 

That got you to move; feet shuffled on the rug and hardwood floors, now standing inches from Mark. His commanding stare pierced your core, his eyes looked like you had disobeyed him but for what you didn't know. 

"Your clothes. Remove them," his velvety voice instructed. 

Remove them? Here? Your eyes widened in faint shock, glancing about the room before landing back on the actor. 

"But … all these people …," you start.

"Pets like you aren't supposed to talk, nor should they wear clothing," Mark interrupted you, his voice more pressing and commanding, "Do as I say and strip, subcreature, you living sex toy."

What … did he just call you?! Living sex toy?? Subcreature?! Those degrading terms hit your core in a weird way, your hands slowly and shakily removing your clothing which were tossed to the side as you stood there fully naked in front of these six people and Mark. If you didn't feel any more degraded, the actor snapped his fingers again and pointed down once more.

"Kneel, pet." 

A small whine escaped your lips, refusing to move or do anything any further, lightly shaking your head. What were you doing in here?! What happened to that charm and warmth the actor showed you?! You took one step back before the actor reached a hand and grasped the scruff of your neck with it, your body freezing from the firm grip, gasping as you were pulled in and inches from his face. 

"I said kneel, subcreature," he growled. "You don't deserve standing on two feet like your Master and his friends. Your place is at our feet, your body ours to use. You are nothing more than a piece of meat for me to fuck. You are worthless without me using you, commanding you. You … are … nothing." He tightened his grip. "Kneel before your Master, you dumb animal."

You shook under his grasp, fear overtaking you as the degrading went further; you were forced to your knees, the actor pushing you down with his hand on your neck and the other on your shoulder. You were being reduced to a groveling, whimpering mess once you got to your knees, watering eyes staring up at him. 

"Please … let me go," you whispered, begging him. 

"Your fate was sealed the moment you set foot inside this manor and the second you stepped into this room," Mark made this perfectly clear to you. You suddenly remembered you were the only one with an invitation - there were no other letters in the basket by the door. Then … what was this whole party for? "I think it's been made clear as to the intention of this soiree." He paused, the burning fireplace cast a shadow over his face that made him appear devilish. 

"Your initiation and transition into being my toy. My slutty plaything, sex toy, pet, all the terms that encompass who you are to be to me." His hand on the back of your neck softened, gradually letting go. "Clearly you need work, but, if you're a good pet, I will give you warmth, I will show you kindness. Obey my words, and you will be rewarded." His hands unzipped his fly, pulling a thick girth that made your eyes widen. "Let's start simple, shall we? Suck, pet."

Before he even finished the command you were on that cock immediately, hungrily sucking on the head, a small moan escaping you. You didn't want to admit that there was a part of you that fantasized about being Mark's degraded pet, but it showed in your actions as you sucked the actor off.

"Well, well, look at this," Mark purred. "The shy, demure subcreature is a filthy little cock slut, aren't you?" His hand ran through your hair, chuckling. "Good pet."


	4. Join the Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 - Caged/Buried alive/Lingerie
> 
> Characters - Mark, original character

Mark didn't know how it had come to this. He had no enemies, no ill intentions towards anyone, and yet his drink got roofied at a small party. The only thing that stuck out to him was chatting with this kinda weird guy who invited him to a separate party.

"Yeah, you should totally come and meet the others, it'll be fun!" the guy exclaimed. "Once I tell them about you, they'll be dying to meet you."

Was it him? Of course it was. Mark was looking up right at him from his spot in the grave he was in. The man had a Cheshire cat grin on his face as he looked down at Mark, giggling like a loon; he had drugged Mark, yes. He had put Mark in a lingerie set when he brought him to his place, proceeding to fuck that unconscious body in that lacy two piece outfit. Mark's ass and mouth were covered in the man's cum. Now Mark was cuffed to the walls of the large kennel he found himself in. He glared up at the guy, feeling salt on his tongue and his ass violated; he tried to press back against the cage wall and break loose but the walls were reinforced - there would be no escape for him.

Mark let out muffled grunts and growls, the ball gag in his mouth preventing him from cussing the man out. 

"There we go. Nice and quiet. Did you enjoy? I know I did," the guy grinned. "The others are going to be delighted to hear you're joining them."

Mark's eyes widened in fear realizing what he meant - there were other men, just like Mark, in cages like these, cuffed in this way, and buried all around him. He was surrounded by dead people, humiliated the same way; the guy took a shovel, showering Mark with dirt. He whined and whimpered, grunting against the gag, panicking while trying to escape. 

"You tried that once, Markimoo. You won't be able to bust out of this. I can tell you're not going to go gentle into that good night. Most of them didn't anyway." Mark growled up at him as the guy proceeded to bury him alive. When there was enough dirt where Mark couldn't see the guy, he attempted to pray to any deity that would listen. To get him out of here. 

The only answer that came was a few hours later. A couple smart friends of the guy turned him over to the police, telling them about the bodies buried in his backyard. Mark's body had gone into a coma when he was pulled out, he had kept calm the whole time, but the oxygen ran out in a matter of hours, Mark slowly suffocating in his cage. The kennels were busted open to pull the dead out, Mark's the only body that had a weak pulse; there was another young man Mark's age that had just passed when his was pulled out.

Mark had laid in the hospital for a week, then two weeks, a month, two months, the doctors unsure if he would wake up from his coma. The state of his body at the time of exhumation was hanging by a very thin thread, if they had arrived two or five minutes too late or even ten, Mark would have been dead. But as he laid in the hospital bed - maybe that would have been the case. 

He didn't seem to be waking up any time soon.


	5. Look Even Nicer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 - Sadist/On the run/facial
> 
> Characters: Reader, Mark

You shivered in the autumn cold, your sweater and knit cap not doing much to keep you warm from the chilly night air. Your boots were covered in mud, trekking along the side of the road, shuffling along as you were weary from walking and running so many miles. Occasionally a vehicle passed you by but none stopped - until one did.

It was an old pickup truck, probably from the late 70s, early 80s, two tone colored; the driver did drive past a bit but came to a crawling stop. As you walked up to the passenger door, the driver leaned over and hand rolled the window down. Getting a good look at him, the driver was handsome in almost every way you could think of. His red and black plaid shirt was also adorned with a worn Carhartt vest with a wool lining, he wore fingerless gloves, faded Wranglers and boots. His plush lips curled into a small smile, dark eyes twinkling. 

"Need a ride somewhere? Or needing a place to stay for the night?" his smooth velvety baritone inquired. 

"Anywhere but here and far from where I came from," you answer, crossing your arms to try and keep you warm. 

He nods. "Well, hop on in. You can stay the night at my place. I'm Mark, by the way."

Thanking him, and giving Mark your name, you climb into the cab, the driver pulling off the shoulder and onto the road. You rolled the window back up, feeling the heater in the pickup do its job in making you comfy as you can. 

"I don't mean to pry but, what you said back there, wanting to be far from where you came from … you a runaway?" Mark glances over at you.

You shift a little bit in your seat. "Well, I -," 

"You don't have to answer it. I know you weren't expecting me to ask that right off the bat -,"

"No, no, it's fine. I, um … yeah I'm a runaway. Well, on the run from some people."

"You a criminal?"

You pause, taking a deep breath. "Kind of?"

Mark nodded, and left it at that. You could see the gears turning in his head - hopefully he doesn't mean to turn you over. 

"I was in jail once," Mark confesses. "Thought about escaping once or twice, but served my time. It wasn't anything special, just some petty crime." He paused. "I only told you that to make you feel better and not think I'm gonna be calling the authorities. You got nothing to worry about."

You nod, looking out the window after, watching the world drive past as Mark brings his pickup to an old trail that led to a cabin. "Well, there she is. Home sweet home." Mark got out of the truck after parking it, you followed suit and into his cabin. It was luxurious by any means, but it was warm and comfy; there was a stuffed raccoon on a shelf, a black bear hide hanging on a wall, a rustic cabin with small knick knacks and hunting trophies - a couple of deer antlers to accompany the bear hide and stuffed coon. 

"Make yourself at home. You can sleep in my bedroom, I don't mind sleeping on the couch," Mark set his keys down and took the vest off, hanging it. "I sleep on that more than I do in my own bed." 

After a well cooked supper and chatting with Mark, it seemed like you've known him your whole life the way he spoke with you. He had a natural charm and kind eyes that drew you in; after saying good night it was a couple hours later that you heard the door to the bedroom open. You stir and crack open your eyes to see Mark standing over you - but something in his eyes seemed … off. 

"Get off the bed, and get on your knees," his baritone dropped low into a bass, the tone calm and somber. You slowly got off and sunk to your knees, Mark pulling his thick girth out from his long johns; you were frozen in fear, but his face didn't show any signs of aggression. If anything it was stoic but something in the eyes held a faint predator gaze, soft but had a hidden danger in them. He stroked his length sensually until it was semi-hard, your eyes darted from the head of his cock to Mark's darkening stare. 

"Suck on it, go on," the commanding but patient tone came out of a man who looked ready to beat you. You hesitate coming forward, your mouth enveloping the head, sucking on it gently; a veiny hand grabbed your hair, pulling you off him forcefully as he gave a slap across your face. You stare up at him dumbfounded, another slap and you saw a smile come to his lips; your brows furrow further, head forcefully brought to his cock, the shaft invading your throat as you choke on it. Mark violently humped your face, grip on your hair was tighter. He pulled you off, you cough harshly and nearly puke, he gives a few more slaps to your face. Each sting making you whimper. 

"You look so nice getting slapped. I like that a lot. I like watching you react. And I like slapping the shit out of you, it brings me joy that I haven't felt in a while," he pants and rasps, forcing your head down his length, you sputter and groan against him. This sadistic weirdo was choking you and slapping your face you lost count. The last time he pulls you off, he firmly holds your head in place, you grimace from the vice; Mark strokes his cock, head directly in front of your face. 

You watch his face scrunch and smooth in bliss, pre leaking and landing on your face. He glanced down at you as that happened, a sick grin on his face; he gave a few more slaps to your face in between stroking himself. Mark leaned his head back in a groan, cum splattering onto your face in thick streaks, the heavy load covering a good portion of your pain stricken and confused face from getting that facial. Once he's done he lets you go, panting and huffing from his orgasm. Mark looks down at you, his grin getting wider.

"You look even nicer with my cum on that wonderful face of yours." He had a little bit of cum left on the tip, taking the dollop on a finger and smeared it on a spot that wasn't covered. "There. Hope you liked it."

Truth be told, but not wanting to admit it - a small part of you did.


	6. Let's Play a Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 - Cannibalism/"Get it out", "Stop it"/prostate stimulation
> 
> Characters - Bim Trimmer, Mark

Bim looked at the clay covered roast as he pulled it out of the oven, a soft smile on his lips. Cooked to perfection, he hoped. He set the decorated piece in the center of the table, his guest awed at the table display and lay out as they were brought up to the table. Mark beamed at the lavish display, his mouth watering from the wonderful smell of the roast. 

"Everything looks amazing, Trimmer," he sleepily spoke. 

Bim grinned. "Well, the roast will be even amazing, thanks to you. You supplied the meat. And I have another roast from you that I'll bring to a bigger dinner party but for now it'll just be us tonight. I heard clay roasting brings out the flavor and makes the meat more tender, falling apart easily." He cracked the clay shell carefully, revealing a well seasoned leg roast, the steam rising from the meat, Mark getting a waft of the cooked meat. 

"Well, it was nothing -" Then his world got tipsy and fast, like waking from a dream. Mark started to feel an itch, and a stinging pain. His vision swam a bit, wincing as the light was hurting his eyes. Bim glanced over and saw his source was starting to wake up. 

"The drug should wear off soon. Too bad you'll have to be conscious and aware for the rest of this," Bim noted, carving a piece of the roast and setting it onto a plate, dishing up other foods and set the plate in front of Mark just as he was coming back to full wakefulness.

"What … did you do …," Mark managed to get out. He looked down at himself, a scream came out from his gut - his own two legs had been taken from him. One of them was sitting right in front of him, cooked in clay; but Bim had trimmed and carved his leg so it was only his thigh, making it look like a roasted pork loin. His stomach churned into knots, seeing Bim serve a piece of his own leg to him; Mark shook in the horror of realizing Bim was a cannibal, he looked up to the show host with sheer terror in his eyes. 

"Let me go. Please. Just let me go, please don't kill me and eat the rest of me," Mark whimpered, Bim giving him a grin while moving to his side of the table.

"I won't do that, no, you're much too fun to be around, Mark. That's why during our little game that you unfortunately lost, I rigged it so only I'd let you live." He paused carving a larger piece of Mark's leg to himself. "But we're not done here. I have a little game for you …"

"Everything's always a game with you," Mark muttered under his breath. 

"Just eat one piece of yourself, you'll get a nice reward. Eat more of yourself, the reward will be even better." After Bim completed his own plating he sat down, grabbing his cloth napkin and put it on his lap, gazing at Mark with raised brows, giving a light shrug. "After that, I'll let you go." He picked up his wine glass. "Sound fair?"

Mark stared at Bim with utter disdain, glowering at him. He shifted in his seat best he could but could feel something lodged in his ass - his brows furrowed, shooting Bim a bewildered look. Trimmer smirk, chuckling as he sipped his wine.

"Figured it out yet?"

"Get whatever you put in me out. Get it out!" 

"But that's the reward. Allow me demonstrate briefly." Bim brought out a little remote, holding it up for Mark to see, and pressed a button. Mark felt a vibration right against his prostate, groaning, hands gripping the table's edge. Not having legs meant he helplessly squirmed in his seat; he shivered and panted, mind trying to tell his body to resist it. Thankfully Bim shut off the toy, Mark huffed, the glare plastered on his face; Trimmer set the remote close by, his wolfish grin never leaving his face. 

"So? What do you think?"

Mark pulled his hands away from the table setting them on the arms of the wheelchair he was in. He stared down at the plate, his lips curling in disgust, trying to stomach the fact that he'd have to eat himself in order to be free from this. He glanced up at Bim who was tucking in to the roasted leg, the show host's brows raised at the flavor of Mark's leg. He felt his captive's stare, meeting his gaze. 

"Pretty good. You do have some meaty gams, Mark. Or did. I knew they looked juicy and ripe," Bim sipped his wine.

Mark averted his gaze, feeling the vibration at full blast on his prostate for a quick second before it stopped, glowering at Bim from across the table, the show host smirking playfully. His cheeks were red as he glanced down and saw his underwear tented from the stimulation. Another quick buzz in his ass made Mark jostle in his chair.

"Stop it."

"Every second you sit there letting your food get cold, the more time it takes me to contemplate consuming the rest of you," Bim's demeanor turned dark. "Maybe I should have lobotomized you first before taking your legs." 

Mark slumped back in his chair - if his reward was getting a prostate massage … just for eating a piece of himself … he groaned to himself, sitting forward. With great hesitation he picked up the knife and fork, numbing himself to the fact he'd be eating his own leg, he dug in to the slice of meat, quickly shoving it into his mouth; chewing it for a moment, his eyes darted up to Bim … this … was … surprisingly … oh god he hated to admit it … 

Bim saw Mark struggle accepting the truth, he tilted his head to the side. "Good, isn't it? You don't have to use your words," Bim calmly stated. 

Mark had a pained look on his face as he begrudgingly nodded. He chewed a bit more before swallowing, the vibration in his ass was set to the lowest setting; he let out a low moan, hating himself for liking a piece of his own flesh cooked … oh god … cooked to perfection. Bim chuckled at the grimaced expression, watching Mark with careful eyes, the amputee taking another bite. Once he swallowed that piece, Trimmer turned up the toy another notch. Mark squirmed in his seat, sitting back as his mind was telling his body that what he ate was pork and nothing else - not a piece of his own leg. But it was also telling his cock to not get hard, to resist the vibration hitting his prostate with expert precision. 

"Don't fight the reward, Mark. A reward is supposed to be the best part of the challenge," Bim sat and watched him squirm more. Pushing another button on a different remote, grinning wider. Mark felt additional pressure and vibration outside on his perineum, freezing in place as the setting on that was cranked up all the way. His body was betraying him, skin flushed and dick at full mast in his boxer briefs, Mark giving a whine. 

"Please … stop … get it out …," he begged, squirming more. He huffed and panted heavily, even his own mind starting to find an ounce of pleasure in this. Mark groaned, writhing in his seat, his stumps twitching in their bandages; he gripped the sides of the table, wincing, telling himself to not give in. 

"Mark …," Bim sighed, stopping the toys for a moment, concern drew on his face as he sat forward, "if you stop resisting the reward, I'm afraid it'll be game over for you entirely. You're not being fun anymore, not playing by the rules. And people who don't play by them get disqualified." He paused, seeing Mark calm down. "You wouldn't want to lose again, do you?" 

Mark deeply sighed through his nose, contemplating his situation. He has to do this - not because he wants to, but because he needs to get out this alive and in … well … whatever is left of him. Mark sat forward, starting to eat the rest of his meal; Bim's face turned into a small smile, turning the toys on at the lowest setting as they ate in silence. By the end of his meal, Mark did his best to numb and block out of his mind that he ate part of himself and that he admittedly liked it. 

Bim slowly turned the toys up a notch bit by bit, Mark panting and squirming in his seat, mind giving in and forgetting that he partook in self-cannibalism, letting the prostate stimulation sink his mind into pleasure; his cock twitched in his prison, hands fumbling it free as he stroked it in a steady pace. At the highest setting, Mark became slack jawed, finally crying out as he came on himself, cum painting his chest. Bim gleamed with joy, turning the toys off, and wheeled Mark to a door. 

"Congratulations, Mark, you won my little game. I'm so glad you could play along," Bim grinned, opening the door. Mark expected an exit - instead it was a lavish bedroom with a pulley system set up and about the bed. Mark looked on in a mix of shock and horror. He's not getting out of this, is he. 

Bim leaned down to an ear, voice low, "But I'm not done toying with you yet. So many more fun games we can play. And with me, your host, Bim Trimmer."


	7. Creature from the Caverns Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 - Support/enemy to caretaker/tentacles or goo
> 
> Characters - Reader, monster!Mark

You took a vacation to explore caves and go spelunking in the most beautiful places, even finding some nearby along the coast of California once you returned home. You drove to a spot a couple hours out of the city, taking whatever gear you had with you traveled to the mouth of the cave.

You trekked down further into the cave system, seeing pools of water you were surprised to see. As your light passed over and shined on the walls, you spotted a glint in the water for a moment; shining the light back to that spot, the glint wasn't there but a ripple of water tremored on the surface. Thinking water had trickled from a stalactite, you press on, not seeing a pair of eyes watching you again from that very pool. 

Being new to this cave exploration, you got turned around and lost easily; you curse to yourself, not an expert in directions as you thought. You weren't aware of a creature stalking you in the depths, orange eyes glowering at you at a distance; it reaches out a tentacle when you were in a safe distance, wrapping around your ankle. You felt something wet and slimy touch you, you flinched away, losing your footing. You rolled your ankle badly in the process as you shatter your arm and shoulder from the impact of the fall, head knocking against rock.

A growl sounded as you feel a wet body press up against you, tentacles wrapping around your lower half, webbed hands pinning your wrists; your swimming vision only catches a snarling face with orange eyes, the body of the creature a dark blue leaning on purple in some spots. You scream, cowering before the thing, the growling roar dwindling down to a faint snarl. 

"Please … please, I - I don't mean you any harm, I'm just exploring, that's all," you beg, hoping the creature had some form of sentience. 

_"Human,"_ the deep baritone voice snarls at you, a bit gargly. _"You think you can wander into my home and terrorize me. Haven't your kind done enough to my own?"_

You look up at the being, bewildered. "What? What are you talking about?"

He snarls again, from what you can see he looks to be completely made of a thick slime or sludge, what appears to be coating his upper humanoid half, the lower half is tentacles, like an octopus. The pupils of his orange eyes are slitted, teeth sharp. His overall frame had some transparency to it, but was solid, natural bioluminescence from the creature made him glow; his face was masculine, angular jaw, thick neck, hair hung in greasy goopy thick strands. If he wasn't snarling, his countenance would be pretty handsome. 

_"Your kind has taken my kin, used them for experiments, displaying them for you apes to gawk at,"_ he growls. _"I made a vow to destroy every human that dares come into my home and take me. I'm the last of my kind, we have lived here since the earth was formed and life began. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't end your life."_

You can hear the pain in his voice, you gulp hard. "I-I'm sorry that your … species was almost wiped out, I-I don't know what to say other than I'm only exploring, not going to do anything nefarious." You pause, eyes widening as you convince him, "T-Take me as a prisoner! The more time you spend around me, it'll show you that I'm not bad and won't harm you! If … if I do anything that would bring such harm, you … you can do with me however you see fit."

His snarls quiet down, deep purrs come from him as he contemplates, his eyes squinting at you in thought. His tentacles on your lower half loosen, he puts your wrists together, secreting goo that hardens and lets go. _"Very well, human. You are my prisoner until proven innocent. I shall let you go when that time comes."_

He slithers away to let you get up but you're disoriented from the fall and feel the pain riding up your arm and leg, you wince trying to sit up. He notices your struggle, sighing to himself as he offers support, carrying you to a pool. The tentacled creature sits on the edge momentarily before saying, _"Hold your breath."_

You take a deep breath as he dives in, swimming along to an opening which brings the two of you to another cavern, resurfacing in the soft neon green glowing pool from the biodiversity in the cave system. He sets you in a nook, your temporary prison, giving you a wary eye as he stays close by. The creature takes note of your banged up appearance, lips turned up in disgust - you get the feeling he's almost having pity on you, showing mercy as he slithers close to you, and examines your injuries. After doing so he fetches what he could to mend - mostly different kinds of salves that are good in nature but does wonders to heal. 

Over the course of four days, his scowl softens, the creature even giving you his name - Mark. He considered you his enemy, but now you see guilt written on his face. Mark offers his help in nursing you back to health; he even indulges you in telling his species history - how during the time of life forming on earth his kind were branched far, far off from what would be humans today, but still had humanoid facial and body structures, only mutated to a large degree. How they reproduce was a different matter - from what Mark could explain in simple terms, both sexes had the ability to fertilize eggs and carry young, but needed a partner to do one or the other. Since he was the last, he could live for another millennia unless some kind of evolutionary phenomenon occurred. 

"Could just reproduce asexually," you concluded, giving a shrug with a shoulder. "That's how some species with a similar molecular structure do it." 

Mark nods. _"Yes, I suppose you're right. Who knows when that will come along. But I will remain hopeful, thanks to that bit of info."_

The next week he had gone from enemy to caretaker, even developed amicable feelings towards you. Though there was one day you were asleep and felt something wet press against you, tentacles coiling around your lower half; you turned your head to see Mark cuddling close to you, surprised that he did this. 

_"Should I give you space?"_ he asked, seeing your faintly bewildered gaze.

"No, no, this is fine," you place your hand on top of his webbed one that was curled around your middle. 

A smile slowly drew on his lips, the tentacled creature curling and coiling closer to you; the slime and goo getting on you didn't matter, it was cool to the touch but with your body heat it provided warmth in a conductive reaction. The end of the second week came around, you were able to get up and walk; Mark looked a little sad to see you leave, the creature brought you back to the other surface from where you were first taken. You could hear voices of people searching for you, you give one last glance to Mark who looked ready to jump out and murder the others, but you extinguish it by cupping his face and giving him a kiss on the lips.

"I don't live far from here … maybe I can visit you?" you suggest. 

His eyes smile at you, giving a short nod. _"I'd like that very much."_


	8. The Collection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 - gore decor/isolation/bondage
> 
> Characters - Reader, Wilford Warfstache

You pulled up to an overly brightly painted Victorian manor on a hill - the color scheme of pinks and yellows, and shades of light purple and white trim stood out amongst the other … normal colored homes down below. On the porch of the manor stood a man buff in nature you thought he was a strongman in a circus act once upon a time; his neatly coiffed hair was pink all around, bright pink, his moustache the same color. As you came closer and stood close to him you swear his brown eyes had speckles of pink and yellow in them as well. His tan pants were tucked into a pair of black riding boots, bright yellow shirt with a pink bowtie, wearing a cream colored coat that belonged to the Regency or Rococo period with how intricately decorated it was with floral patterns of the same coloring as the house. 

And for a man his stature he loomed over you a bit, a smile was tucked under his moustache as his eyes beamed at you. “You must be the art collector,” he brought his hand out to shake, his jaw waggled now and then as he spoke. “I’m delighted you could come and see which part of my collection you wish to display for your event.”

“It’s a pleasure to be here, Mister …”

“Warfstache. Wilford Warfstache,” he gleamed, shaking your hand. He stepped to the side gesturing to the door. “Shall we?”

As you enter, it was a picturesque Victorian home, original wood floor and staircase, the walls with a deep rose pink wallpaper with flower motifs. So far anyway. You saw Grecian statues and oil paintings that caught your eye - nothing so far that striked the theme to your gala. 

“I must say this is an impressive display so far, Mr. Warfstache, but my theme for this is the macabre. Gothic. I don’t suppose you have an oil painting or something of the like?”

You see Wilford’s speckled eyes glint and beam. “As a matter of fact, my dear. I do. I have some things that would be right up your alley,” he staccatoed the last four words with a finger point, curling his finger in a ‘follow me’ movement, leading you more into the mansion and rounded a corner. 

As you came into a parlor area, you froze at the doorway, jaw dropping at the display. In contrast to the bright pastel colors - there was a bust of a half decaying man, an oil painting of a mauling in a colosseum, a statue made up like Michaelangelo’s David that looked more real than a wax mannequin with part of his ribcage showing and half his face torn off, not to mention other parts of the … statue … decaying, and lastly two fully grown humans sewn together, covered in transparent latex, curled in a fetal position in a large reinforced glass trunk that served as a coffee table. 

“This is only the beginning of it,” Wilford softly spoke, the grin on his lips never leaving as he looked proud of his collection, soon moving out of the room. It took you awhile to become unfrozen, following him up the stairs to find more gorey decor - a skinned human torso with the ribcage opened and a diorama of stuffed mice living inside it, a body impaled on a large set of elk horns in a fainting pose, oil paintings of beheadings and mobs mauling, glass cases with mummified or petrified organs or heads with frozen facial expressions. 

You didn’t know whether to be sick or … what. You passed by a nook that was empty but it seemed like something was there, or would be in the near future. Coming into another room, snarling wolf’s head with half its face gone and jaw hanging spooked you, Wilford turned his back over his shoulder towards you at the startled noise you made, a smirk on his lips. 

“There’s something I want to show you,” he calmly states, gesturing you over to an exhibit that looked reminiscent of the Pieta. The figure in the Mary position was androgynous, their back pulled apart in a blood eagle display, on their chest was carved _‘Omnipotens Deus, creator omnium nostrum misit filium suum, ut adducam gaudium mundi. Eum requiem, et adducam eum in pace’ _, you tilted your head to read the intricate words neatly carved on their skin; the Jesus figure however was completely untouched except for the stigmata signs and a crown of thorns, inspecting the face further you noticed it bared a resemblance to Wilford’s own, minus the bright hair and moustache, and perhaps a bit younger.__

__“The words say, ‘Almighty God sent his son to bring joy to the world. Let him rest and bring him peace’ … it … was something I requested when this was made,” Wilford’s tone was solemn, you saw a sad look in his eye. “I lost a few dear friends long ago … at a party that ended in bloodshed … one of them was a wonderful mayor.” He leaned forward, the back of his finger delicately caressing and stroking the cheek of the Jesus figure. “He didn’t know it … but I loved him dearly. He was an angel. Sent from heaven.” He paused, his voice soft and low, “I miss him dearly.” Wilford tilted his head slightly, caressing the cheek a little more. “He was the closest thing that looked exactly like Damien …”_ _

__He straightened himself, sniffling and turned to you, drying his eyes. “Now, then, what interests you, my dear? I have plenty of macabre decor modeled after Grecian statues, if that tickles your fancy,” he put on his usual beaming grin._ _

__As you looked about the exhibits and pieces, something didn’t sit right with you … they all looked … too real. Darting your eyes across the room and landing on Wilford, you were left speechless, leaving you simply shrug your shoulders._ _

__“It’s a lot to take in, I know,” he quietly spoke in a calm manner. He took two great heavy strides towards you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, leading out of the room and back to the empty nook you glanced at earlier. “I’ve saved this space for a couple weeks now. I think I may have found the piece I want to put there.” As you turn your head at Wilford to gaze into his speckled odd eyes, you feel a pin prick in your arm. “And it’s you, my dear. You’ll be a nice addition to my collection.”_ _

__It was too late as you succumbed to the tranquilizer. After that you were thankfully not conscious (or a live for that matter) for what happened to your body; your major organs were removed save for parts of the colon and esophagus as they were sewn together; your chest cavity remained open, the only thing keeping you up was a firm rubber rod that was inserted through your rear and seamlessly went up your new passageway and out your mouth, head tilted upward. Your eyes were removed, two bloody holes in their wake; your whole body coated in a special mix of resin, wax, and another preservative, just like the others. Limbs were bound together in a leather sleeve that buckled up tightly, calves to thighs, forearms to upper arms; barbed wire tied and cinched around your torso like a gruesome shibari body harness, all of you placed in a domed glass case, isolated from the eyes of the public or Wilford’s other eccentric guests._ _

__All isolated except for him. Wilford comes into the special room he has you placed in, gazing upon his newest work with delight, masturbating to this new image of you from time to time. A beautiful exhibit in his ever expanding collection._ _


	9. It Will Be Okay (or The Opal)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9 - Desperation/"Take me instead", ritual sacrifice/crying
> 
> Characters - Reader, Mark, original characters, Annus

You held on tightly to him as you were both crouched and sat in the corner of the holding cell, the dim light of the torches the only source; Mark had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, head leaning against yours turned in towards you. The two of you weren’t expecting to get kidnapped by a zealous cult, neither did the others that were also brought here. But then the sacrifices happened - one by one the numbers of captives dwindled, now it was just the two of you. Every night when the cult held their mass, rituals, whatever, you always feared you were next. Or Mark was next. But whatever sick and cruel entity was out there keeping you two alive this entire time must have a twisted sense of humor. 

You were both desperate to escape, trying to find every opportunity to break out, but watches hardly ever came down here, there was almost nothing to break the locks with. You were given food via a panel that slid open at the bottom of a wall and that was it. Every time cult members came down to grab a random captive for a sacrifice, you and Mark were always looked at first, seeing the contemplation in a member’s eyes and you thinking surely this must be it, this was your last moment on earth. Only to be glossed over momentarily, at one point you begged to be taken next (mostly to run and find a way out), you were scoffed and laughed at and was answered with, “He has a plan for you.”

“We’re gonna get out of this,” Mark quietly told you while you both sat in an empty dungeon. “When the next guard comes in, we’ll knock him out and escape. It’s our only shot at freedom.”

You both waited for the door to open and one of you left alone, but sleep overtook you; the clanging on keys on the cell door woke the two of you, your eyes landing on a small party of cult members peering at the two of you with hunger and need - two against five seemed far too many to take down. Mark and you exchanged glances, slowly rising to your feet, already backed up enough in the corner as a more official robed member came forward. 

“It seems we have miscounted. We were tasked to acquire a hundred souls for this final ritual to work,” he spoke in a raspy tone. “So now it must come to a choice. Who is willing to die.”

“Neither,” you speak up, taking a few steps forward. “You’re not taking either of us.”

“A brave but futile statement,” the head priest scoffed. “Perhaps you should be the one.” 

“No. Don’t take them,” Mark spoke from behind you, stepping up next to you and took one step closer to the priest. “Take me instead.”

You snap your gaze towards Mark, eyes widened in fear, watering as the thought of losing Mark hurt you too much.

“You willingly volunteer to sacrifice yourself to our god, whom we wish to summon to this plane?” Mark slowly nodded, taking another careful step forward. The priest grinned under his hood. “Very well, let us make the -” 

Mark socked the guy in the throat, hitting his windpipe and grabbed your hand, the two of your tearing it out of the cell; the four others were dumbfounded briefly at the action Mark took, the two of you dashed down the hallway out of the dungeon, careening around a corner and down two more set of hallways. A door was at the end of a long passage - this had to be an exit. The two of you come to it, Mark turned the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. You both tried ramming your shoulders into it to break it down, Mark kicking it with all his might; giving up on this, you make it back to a crossroad - right or left?

“There they are!” a voice right out from the left. Mark and you exchange glances, going right and right again, coming to another door. Along the way Mark picked a spear from a wall decoration, using the blade end to try and pry the door open. He shimmied and shook it, thinking he almost had it until the approaching footsteps got closer - you were both surrounded by more cultists, the head priest pushing through the crowd, eyes glaring at the two of you. 

“There is no escape,” he gasped, still trying to catch his breath. “Our choice is final -” he points to Mark, “he shall be the last sacrifice.”

“No!” you shout at him. “You won’t be taking either of us! We don’t deserve to die! Just please let us go!”

“Your desperation falls deaf on our ears,” the priest snarled. “It’s futile at this point to escape. There is no escaping the inevitable.”

“Keep me and let them go,” Mark bargained, pulling the spear free from the door. “I’d rather want them to go living without me, I’ve lived my time here and already accepted my fate.”

“Mark, please,” you held onto his arm, tears starting to form, “don’t … don’t do this …”

The priest was wary of Mark, eyeing the spear he held. Taking a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes briefly, the weapon Mark held changed into bindings, wrapping around his wrists, a lead connecting them to the priest. Mark looked dumbfounded, doing his best to tear the bonds and pull on the lead but the priest gave a flick of his wrist, you watched Mark’s body become stiff, his eyes widened; Mark felt a powerful force wash over him, gaining control over his entire frame. He tried to fight it as his body started to move against his will, you grabbed onto the lead and tried to pull it away from the priest’s grip but you were held back by two cultists, you screamed and cried at them to let the two of you go. 

“It doesn’t matter how many times you beg and be desperate for a miracle to happen,” the head priest snidely scolded you, “none will come.”

You were both led to the main chamber where the rituals and sacrifices happened, your wrists were tied behind you as you got a front row seat to everything. Mark gained control of his body back once they were up on the platform, fear in his eyes as he tried to make a run for it, having second doubts but was manhandled by cultists, his clothes forced off him. His naked frame was on display for the entire cult to see, he writhed and squirmed as he was lifted onto the altar, the floor around it had symbols drawn in white on the black marble. Before the altar was a set of double doors, gilded in gold while it was mostly black; the torch lights were a bright green, incense hung heavy in the air. 

As Mark laid on the cool marbled altar he had thought about making a secondary run for it, but being surrounded by this many cultists, and him stupidly offering himself for this, he shook as the fear began to settle over him - this was it. This is how he’ll die. He briefly closed his eyes, trying to accept his fate for real, turning his head and opened his eyes towards your direction, maintaining eye contact with you; it was true he’d rather have you live on without him, he’d rather see you move on to someone else once he was gone … if these cultists ever held up their end of the bargain and did let you go. He loved you too much to let you live without having him by your side, he always encouraged you to find another should he be the first to die at a ripe old age or if something were to happen to him suddenly. 

Tears streamed down your cheek as there was nothing the two of you could do, light sobs sounded from you, yours and Mark’s gaze still locked. You saw the shift in his eyes that he was at peace with accepting his death, Mark mouthing ‘It will be okay’ at you which made you sob louder. The head priest came to face the crowd from behind the altar holding his hands over Mark’s body, closing his eyes and concentrated as he began the ritual; Mark’s gaze with you was broken as he felt his body tense up, back and neck arching as a strong current of occult power surged through him, hands tensing in open claws, the feeling of pins and needles wracked his entire frame, eyes rolling up into his head. A symbol had appeared on his chest, resembling an ankh with an upward curve along the staff and a diagonal slash through the loop. 

The priest’s incantations filled the room, your sobs and tears growing louder as you begged for this to stop; a long dagger was picked up from a purple velvet pillow, the head priest holding it above his head and affixed it to pierce Mark’s heart with it. 

“Annus, god of death, keeper of souls, come forth to us and rule this earth, as we surrender this soul unto you,” the priest spoke aloud before plunging the dagger into Mark’s chest. 

You let out a wail, watching Mark’s body go limp on the altar. His head turns to face you but you see his life fade from his wide eyed gaze, you being the last thing he saw. You shook in your bonds, crying out Mark’s name as some of his blood was collected and was smeared on the gilded door. You bowed your head, letting tears fall onto the marbled flooring, feeling a rumble faintly tremor the room as the double doors slowly opened; you didn’t want to look to see what was coming out of it, but the cultists stood in awe as their god walked through in its true form - a winged and tailed anthropomorphic humanoid with the body of a man and two sets of arms, legs of a canid, the face of the god covered by a veil. 

It knew of your pain, it saw into you and into the body on the altar, tilting its head as it approached Mark’s lifeless form. It placed all four hands along his head and torso, a bright light enveloped and flashed in the room - the god nowhere to be seen once the chamber’s normal light came back; the smoke from the incense soon wafted and floated about Mark’s frame, his body slowly levitating off the altar, head and limbs dangling below his arched back. The cultists whispered and murmured to each other as to what was happening, wondering why Annus had come to them then disappeared when a deep heavy gasp came out of Mark, his eyes snapping open revealing pure white eyes.

His body became upright, gently floating back down onto the floor, his upper half leaning on the altar as he was coming to. Annus had possessed Mark’s body, radiating an aura of cleansing into the room, but to the cultists this made them fear their god, soon turning away and running out of the chamber. The head priest sensed Annus was inside the man, trembling as he knelt.

“Oh great Annus, god of the dead, I humbly beseech thee and ask what is our bidding to you,” he bowed his head. 

_“Leave. Leave us, I wish to be alone with them,”_ he spoke, turning his head towards you, despite your own bowed head still hadn’t looked up. _“And furthermore, do not return. I thank you for bringing me to your plane, but I have different plans for this earth than what you previously had thought.”_

The priest looked bewildered at that statement, slowly rising as he left the chamber. You sniffled and shook in your bonds, feeling the ropes come undone; you bring your arms out front to hug yourself, quietly sobbing and humming. You felt a hand gently raise your head, your wet eyes finding the white gaze of Annus, noticing dark red blood had seeped from his eyes like tears. 

_“I am sorry it had to be this way. I don’t normally take pity on mortals, but you and Mark had something special,”_ Annus softly spoke as he crouched to your level, pulling his hand away. 

“Can you bring him back?” you sniffled. 

Annus looked solemn. _“Two souls cannot reside in the same body.”_ You hug yourself tighter, bowing your head as you feel another wave of sobs coming, Annus putting a hand on your shoulder. _“I know, little one, it hurts to hear this. If sharing a body weren’t so difficult, I would. But do not fear, little one. He is here, around us, and always will be.”_ He procured a small bottle on a necklace chain out of thin air, rising as he glanced about the room and closed his eyes briefly; Annus took a deep breath, holding his hand out palm up, pulling the energy from the room to him as he searched for Mark’s soul among the others. When Annus opened his eyes he saw a small speck of light float in his hand, holding the small bottle next to it, the orb of light now residing in it; the light dwindled down as the orb took the shape of an opal, Annus coming back to you as he carefully held out your hand and put the necklace in your hand. 

You lifted your head and saw the small opal inside the bottle, but a sixth sense made itself known to you - it was Mark. You felt his energy and his soul as you held and stared at the opal, how it shined brightly in the lighting; Annus saw your eyes softly smile, his pale white eyes doing the same. _“This is what I can do for you. Now I would like to ask you for something in return.”_ You glance up at him, fear rising in anxiety. _“It is not a daunting task, nor should you be afraid of it. I simply ask you to be a guide and companion as I navigate this world. I wish to learn mortal ways, and as a god of the dead, I need to judge and deem those worthy of living a good afterlife. Do you accept this?”_

You think it over, staring at the opal for a long time, feeling a reassuring energy from it - Mark was fine, things will be okay. Annus had been showing compassion and sympathy towards you, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to aid him … 

“I accept,” you quietly respond. 

Annus warmly smiled, bringing the two of you to your feet; he was cold as he brought you in for an embrace, but you felt a warmth radiate and pulse from the little bottle that contained a special opal as it was clutched close to your chest. Mark’s final words repeating like a mantra - _‘It will be okay.’_ Annus planted a small kiss on your forehead, blessing you as he began his journey of walking through the mortal world with your help.


	10. Revenant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 10 - "I saw you close your eyes"/blood loss
> 
> Characters - Reader, Actor Mark

You had gotten acquainted with the famous actor going by the name of Mark for some time, a friendship that grew into something more; he was charismatic, if not a bit egotistical but that was part of being an actor. Mark had shown a need to care for you once your romantic relationship with him grew, going out of his way to make you feel appreciated and loved - love notes, gifts, the way he held you close at night in bed. There was one night where he decided to treat you to a dinner and a movie, a classic date night. 

As the two of you came out of the theater and walked to the car which was parked in a darker area of the block, two men came out and grabbed you, holding you hostage as one flashed a knife at your neck and the other brandished a snub nose pistol. Mark held his hand at chest level, appearing stoic but you could see the fear rising in his eyes. 

“Hand everything over, and your partner here won’t get hurt,” the mugger with the pistol instructed. 

“It’s alright, sweetie,” the actor said to us as he pulled out what cash he had on him and handed it to the mugger. “Gun probably isn’t loaded.”

“Does this look empty to you?” the mugger sneered as he fired the six bullets into Mark, one of them piercing his jugular. The two ran off, leaving you shook and shocked as you watched the actor’s body fall to the ground, blood pooling around him as his eyes slowly closed. 

Instantaneous blood loss from the hit to his throat sent a clear message to you that he wasn’t going to come out of this … or so you thought. You knelt on the ground by his body, you watched his eyes become unfocused and close, screaming Mark’s name at the top of your lungs; you bowed your head, covering your face as you sobbed, but froze when you heard a familiar voice say your name only a few minutes later.

You looked up and saw Mark was crouched before you, worry on his brows; he reached out a hand to put on your shoulder but you backed away, bewildered that the actor … was alive and breathing again …

“But … I saw you close your eyes …,” you softly spoke, shocked and almost terrified. “How?”

“It’s … a long story …,” he averted his eyes as he grew a heavy sigh, going into some detail about the specifics of why he can come back to life.   
As you listened, the shock and terror on your face faded but your body shivered, watching the bullet wound on his neck start to close; the actor appeared nervous, thinking you were going to leave him - only for him to feel your lips against his. As you pulled away and stared into his eyes, you sent Mark the message that whatever he was now didn’t faze you. You were just thankful that he was alive.


	11. The Beauty Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11 - broken bones/defiance or struggling/mark making
> 
> Characters - Reader, Darkiplier

Chained in a dark void, you laid helpless on the ground, body shivering from the cold, and from the injury you sustained mere hours ago; the adrenaline wore off leaving you softly whimpering, your leg broken in two spots, one rib bruised and another broken, you prayed that the broken rib would just pierce your lungs and end you there. You struggled and cried when you were brought here after falling into a chasm that caused your injuries in the first place - he found you, taking your broken and bruised body with him to here … wherever here was. You only knew that there was no way out except through his powers that can have him come and go as he pleased. 

You felt the air get heavy, hearing a tearing sound as a doorway opened and that suited bastard came through, a smirk faintly plastered on his lips. You carefully sat up, glaring at him as he approached. Dark looked down at his captive with a sadistic twinkle in his eye, crouching down to their level, his suit was black, dotted tie, crisp white shirt; the two-tone color aura about him shimmered and glitched now and then around him, he himself glitched and had a dangerous predator gaze with his head slightly bowed. And in the blink of an eye he looked normal … or some semblance of normal.

 _“Quite the fall you took. Curious creatures like you shouldn’t go wandering off the beaten path,”_ Dark glanced at your injuries, his dark eyes finding your annoyed stare. _“Tragedy befalls them should they choose to stray.”_

“What do you want from me?” you glower at him. 

_“Only you,”_ Dark brings a hand to your cheek to caress it. _“And nothing else.”_

You flinched away from his touch, Dark scowled, gripping your broken leg in the right spot that made you cry out from the pain, his other hand gripping the back of your head tight, your scream became a hiss, groaning in agony. Your pain stricken eyes turned into a glare, but something in Dark’s returned glare told you that maybe you shouldn’t be rejecting his care.

“You won’t be getting anything from me,” you sneered. “Do your worst.”

Dark was silent, staring daggers at you as he continued to apply pressure to an area on your broken leg. When his scowl turned into a smirk, dark eyes twinkling, you felt a large chill run down your spine, eyes widening a little - perhaps you shouldn’t have said that to a man … being … thing … who has powers beyond your imagination. 

_**“Oh, my dear … do not tempt me,”**_ his speech broken, deeper than his usual register, cracked and gravelly. _**“Seeing you broken in so many ways than one makes me beam with glee. I look forward to this.”**_

He let go of you, standing up and straightened his tie and suit jacket, that smirk never leaving his face. “I do like a good game. Let’s see how long you last defying me. You will break soon enough,” his voice cool and calmer in tone. The doorway opened again, Dark giving one last glance before he exited the void. 

You regretted ever saying anything to him.

Time didn’t really matter after the first week of him coming in and torturing you; with your injuries it made things worse as he left whip marks, paddle marks, stretching you while he marked your body with various paddles, whips and even his own hands. Bruises and red spots littered your body, every sting from them turned your skin on fire; but his hands … his hands were chill to the very touch. For every smack from a paddle his hand was there, stopping the swelling, making you shiver and squirm, groaning and crying from the pain and cooldown. You still stared at him with a determined look every time he came and went, Dark’s eyes calculating and examining your body every time before and after he did his ministrations.

 _“I must say I applaud the human spirit’s unyielding strength despite the broken appearance of your body,”_ Dark noted as you were put on a padded bench, strapped in an all fours position, your bum leg screaming at you from being bent and held like this; your head was unstrapped and lifted by a fistful of your hair, Dark forcing you to look at him. _“Had enough, my dear? You’ve been through so much. A simple ‘I surrender’, and you will receive the care you need.”_

“I haven’t had enough. Give your infatuation with me a rest and let me go,” you pant, your words make Dark scowl scarily, the fist in your hair tightened. 

He harshly let go of you, a hard wooden paddle appeared in his hand as he delivered a hard smack on your ass, and another on a spot on your bum leg. Both made you cry out, your hands clenched into fists as you jostled about in your restraints; Dark pinched and grip at your sides, delivering another harsh smack on your reddened ass, your scream music to his ears. 

_**“Do you wish to be tortured forever this way? There are worse ways to break you, my dear,”**_ Dark gripped your head again, forcing your eyes on him again. _**“You are not your own. I adore the way your body shakes and heaves, watching you tremble as I lay claim to you.”**_ He crouches to your level, his free hand caressing a cheek before harshly grabbing your jaw and lower half of your face. _**“My infatuation will never stop. Every breath. Every tremble. It’s intoxicating. Your form is beautiful with my marks, with my hands showing you your place. You … are … beneath me.”**_

He let go again, gripping your not bum leg by the thigh, pinching a spot that he started to singe with a small hot brand. You hiss and let out a cry, feeling a mark permanently make its home on your thigh; Dark let it go, not even placing his hand over it to soothe the mark, letting your writhe in pain. You felt something in you break, the accumulated pain from all of this unbearable, you began sobbing, your body wracking in pain. 

“Please! I - I surrender!” you scream, feeling an icy touch on the brand, whimpering into the padded headrest your buried your face in. Another icy hand gently rubbed your reddened ass, Dark’s cold touch and lips making you shiver. 

You were free from the bench, now laying on a plush bed, your bruised body feeling Dark chilling hands roam and soothe the burning marks and bruises; gently holding your broken leg, it shook and spasmed greatly, you held in a scream as it was set back in place, your ribs healed as well under his touch. Dark crawled into the bed with you, holding you close to him as he cuddled and cradled you. Feeling his hand once more on the thigh that he branded, you glance down at it becoming a small dark rose once his hand pulls away. 

_“There. Nice little beauty mark,”_ he purrs, softly smiling at you when your gaze meets his. He plants a peck on your forehead, you nuzzle your head into him as his care starts to make you feel safe. You sense a strong aura of affection and tender care from him as he holds close in his arms, finding that Dark wasn’t without mercy, shortly dozing off in his embrace. Dark glanced down at you, lips faintly curling up in a corner as he plants another kiss on your head, brushing the rose shaped mark with a tender caress of his thumb.


	12. Broken Toy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12 - torture/broken down, broken trust/leather
> 
> Characters - Reader, Mark

You felt your arms giving yourself a hug, also the sensation of slowly spinning. You crack open your eyes to find yourself in a darkened room, red lighting lining the walls; further inspecting, you find yourself in a leather straightjacket that has the chest open, the material squeaking and churning with every wiggle you make. Your ankles were cuffed to your thighs, your genitals wide open for display, a head harness with a gag was fixed on your head, your muffled moans increasing in volume as you tried to scream for help. No sooner did the door to the room open and a familiar face smirked at you darkly - a face that you once trusted. 

Mark …

He gently closed the door, strolling up to the apparatus he had you hanging from, cupping the soft tissue on your chest and tweaked a nipple, you grunted and writhed in your restraints. Your eyes were wide in disbelief. Why did he have you like this?! How did he bring you here? You saw him as a fun and loveable guy - but this?! You thought you could trust him, he seemed like such a nice guy … 

“Surprise,” he softly smiled, chuckling. “Don’t worry. Just going to have some fun, you and I. And hopefully by the end of it you’ll be begging me to use you.”

You shook your head and protested behind the gag, Mark patted your head, moving away as he started to check the chest harness you were chained into before he unhooked one ankle and clipped onto a separate strap from a corner, doing the same to the other leg, leaving your legs spread, naked thighs and calves shivering as you hung there somewhat upright. You close your eyes, softly begging through your gag, feeling a hand gently glide up your thigh, caressing the soft skin of your ass. Oh god, why?! Why was he doing this?! This was becoming mental torture, if you came out of this with your sanity intact - you wouldn’t want to come within a hundred feet of him. 

Mark could feel your form tremble under his hand, a sly smirk on his lips, stepping away to a table out of your sight. You grunt and moan from the gag, squirming a bit before freezing as you felt a thin rod along the back of your thighs and ass, your eyes widened in rising fear. A series of rapid taps from the thin cane before it was brought down harshly, making you cry out. Another whap from the cane, another muffled cry - on and on this went until your ass and legs were developing welts on them, the skin red and rough, bleeding a little in a couple spots. The only soothing thing was his hand briefly rubbing your sore ass and legs before stepping away and coming to the front, giving your chest a wap of the cane. 

He looked at you methodically, his strong hand groping at the breast tissue harshly, pulling harshly on a nipple, you shut your eyes tight and let out a scream, the gag muffling it. His hands slapped the soft chest tissue a few times, flicking your nipples, hastily tapping the cane on your sensitive flesh, you cry and moan, writhing a bit which makes the cane hit your nipples in the right spot to make you scream. You begged and pleaded for him to stop, but your muffled pleas fell on deaf ears. 

“Shh, shh,” Mark gently cupped your chest, his forehead pressed against yours, sensually rubbing the sore flesh to soothe it. “It’s okay, it hurts, I know. It’s okay, baby. I’m here. You’re okay, baby shh, shhh. Just trust me, it’ll be all okay, Daddy is gonna make sure of that. Just relax, there’s pleasure in pain, baby, you’ll learn that soon enough.”

You deeply grunted at his ‘just trust me’, Mark pulling back and saw your glare, a corner of his lips curled up as he huffed. “You look cute when you’re angry.” He booped your nose, stepping away again as he came up with a new tool, caressing the business end of a riding crop. He stayed in front, rubbing the business end down below on your genitals, you close your eyes for a moment, feeling the leather tap gently on your sensitive region a few times; there was a pause, the anticipation building as you internally begged him to just do it already. Mark saw the thought on your face, grinning more, not giving you the satisfaction and instead flicked a reddened nipple with the crop, making you squirm and yelp. The stinging didn’t subside there, feeling his mouth suckle on that tit, his hand groping and playing with the other breast. You moaned and grunted, whining behind the gag as the nipple play continued a little longer, finally feeling the crop smack your genitals harshly it made you buck in your restraints. 

Mark used his teeth on a nipple, pulling away roughly, and applied clamps to your sore tits, small weights hung on the ends; finally more whacks and flicks from the business end of the crop were centered around your genitalia, the sensitive flesh becoming sore and reddened, throbbing and twitching at growing arousal from the stimulation - your mind still intact, cursing your body for enjoying this. He gave one last final smack before Mark paused momentarily, his eyes dark and had no emotion behind them as he looked at your sore and teary eyed form, shivering the your bonds; Mark stepped out of sight again, a blindfold was affixed over your eyes, and a pair of noise canceling, construction zone headphones were placed on top of everything. 

Deprived of sight and sound, you heard your own muffled groans and whines, feeling something pinch and cinch your genitals, a certain weight was on the end of the clamps; Mark put a few electronic stimulation pads on your chest, groin and pubic area, making sure everything was in order before turning on the stim pads. It all started out as pleasant ripples but since your skin was sore in those areas it was stinging with some form of arousal rising in you. Your mind shouted at your body to not get a rise from this, whimpering and whining as it started to feel good, Mark watched you with a growing smirk on his lips hearing an eventual soft moan of pleasure.

“Good toy. You’re starting to learn, starting to break you down,” he reached down, rubbing the skin of your exposed abdomen, circling an open spot that the chest body harness allowed. You shook in your bonds from his gentle touch, mewling, that hand traveling farther south as he softly stroked your most sensitive part of your genitals, you scream, a moan shortly following - oh god … that … felt good … 

Your mind starts to betray you as well, you hung on to what sanity you had left, his hand working that sensitive head over and over, rubbing and stroking it, circling. The surmounting pleasure was gradually drowning out your rational thinking, his hand pulled away as a whack from the riding crop on your reddened ass brought you out momentarily. The crop repeatedly came down on your ass and thighs harshly, the constant torture from the weights, crop and now the cane again made you shiver, the stim pads not helping any that rippled and throbbed at your muscles, Mark turned up the power a bit more which made you groan in growing need. 

“There we go,” Mark grinned, his hand rubbing your throbbing head down below, circling it now and then, gliding it around and around. “Give in, baby, give in. Daddy’s got you. Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good.”

You could hardly hear him, but you could feel yourself slipping, whining to yourself; his hand pulled away from your genitals, not before long there was a suction focused on the aching head, your eyes rolling up into your head at the sensation, a prolonged moan came out of you. Mark softly smiled, giving the cane a few taps on your ass, hearing your cries and wails from behind the gag. With every smack and tap of the cane on your ass, legs and chest a wave of pleasure came over you from the stim pads and suction; your muffled cries started to fill the room, Mark hummed in delight watching your break down under his touch.

You were on the verge of an orgasm when everything stopped at once, your mind breaking bit by bit, a whine escaping you; the headphones came off, Mark’s hot breath ghosting on your ear, his tongue running along the ridge. 

“I’m not through with you yet, toy. We’re just getting started,” he lowly spoke right in your ear.

A different set of headphones came on, and a VR visor came over your eyes. Mark had it hooked up to a laptop, running a program that was designed to break you mentally; he kept the suction on the sensitive head of your genitals, the stim pads on a low setting as Mark started to apply salve and ice to your sore ass and legs and chest, sensually rubbing them in. Your eyes were awash with spirals and subliminal messaging, outside noise drowned out by white noise and throbbing beats that made your mind sink. Mark could hear your moans, a corner of his lips curling up, gently kissing a sore spot on your ass cheek. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been hanging there, your mind breaking from the programming, cumming who knows how many times, each time you came you broke down more and more; you didn’t trust Mark … but now you do. That broken trust was rekindled, he takes care of you, he makes you feel good … just like old times. The special program faded away, your eyes and ears coming back to reality, mind buzzed and dazed; Mark slowly undid the head harness, a thick string of saliva connecting your mouth to the gag, he saw how lost your eyes looked, mouth hanging open, the drool continuing to stream. 

“Hey, baby,” he softly smiled, cupping a cheek, thumb brushing against it. “How are you doing? Good?”

You tried to speak but nothing came out but a small ‘uh-huh’, Mark chuckled lightly. “Too broken to speak?” Another affirming noise from you. “That’s what I thought. It’s okay, baby. Daddy will take care of you.” 

He slowly and gently got you out of the suspension apparatus and toys, holding you close to him, your limbs weak; you tried to wrap your arms around him, but only moaned and nuzzled into him. Mark sat with you on the floor until you could move again. He slowly rose, your eyes now seeing he’s wearing leather pants, your eyes soon draw to a noticeable bulge, Mark undoing the leather codpiece, showing his freed erection. 

“Worship, toy,” he gave the simple command. You crawled over, licking the leather, smelling it, rubbing your face along the soft material, kissing his leather pants as you worked your way up to his erect shaft, mouth hungrily sucking on it as you felt the leather up and down his legs. Mark softly smiled down at you, petting your hair as he made you his little broken toy, ready to be fixed and made in his image.


	13. The Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 13 - scars/ripped clothing/oxygen mask
> 
> Characters - Reader, Mark

It was an awful sight when you and your first responder partner drove up to the scene, a collision and roll over that made it appear that there would have been no survivors; every time you’ve seen something like this you prayed that the people in the vehicles were going to make it. But sometimes that prayer and hope was a hit and a miss. 

You rushed to the first vehicle that was the one rolled over, seeing the driver was unconscious at the wheel, his head cracked open, blood oozing out; getting him out with help from a couple of firefighters, you laid him out on the road, trying to get a pulse. You found one but it was weak, you examined the rest of him, noticing his shirt was ripped a little; you tore the rest of it open with scissors, feeling for broken or bruised ribs, your eyes seeing a long scar run down his abdomen to his belly button, brows furrowed a little as to what happened to the driver before that gave him such a long scar. 

Running your hand along it for check for further internal bleeding if he had any, you breathed a small sigh of relief to feel that no huge damage was done, but a rib did break and just punctured a lung by a smidge, the impact of the roll over and collision did enough to bruise his ribs badly. Putting him in a neck brace and getting him up on a gurney, you fitted an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, carefully watching the rise and fall of his chest to make sure he was getting enough intake.

On the drive to the hospital you were the one in the back, ensuring the driver was going to be okay. You wiped the blood from the various cuts on his face and cracked skull, seeing the man’s brown eyes crack open a little, darting about as he tried to remove the oxygen mask, you gently set his arms back down and fixed the mask. 

“I need you to relax, okay? We’re just about there,” you tell him, wiping a cut clean on his face. 

“Thank you,” he could manage to get out. “You’re too nice to me…”

Knowing that his brain was jumbled from the wreck you played it off and smiled. “I’m just doing my job to stitch you back together. You look pretty banged up from that crash.”

He weakly nodded or tried to in the neck brace, cloudy and unfocused eyes darting about the back of the ambulance. “Yeah … you should see the other guy,” he croaked out, you softly chuckled, seeing a corner of his lips curl up. He pointed at himself. “Mark.”

You smile and give your name. “You’re gonna be okay, Mark. Take it easy, okay?”


	14. Theirs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 14 - knives/double penetration/branding
> 
> Characters - AFAB reader, Darkiplier, Wilford Warfstache

"Come here, kitten."

You woke up from a nap in the kennel your Masters and owners Dark and Wilford had set you up in, the door open for you to easily come and go as you pleased. You stretched with your upper half out of the kennel, giving a small hum, the little bell on your collar jingling as you walked on all fours to Wilford who patiently stood a few feet from you. His eyes looked down on you with favor as he always does, he spoils the hell out of you - pretty collars and nice clothing (when they allowed you to wear them, save for going out in public). He scratched a corner of your jaw lightly, a grin appearing on his lips underneath his moustache. 

"My precious kitten," he cooed softly as he continued the affections, crouching to your level and caressed and pet you, giggling a little. "So cute and cuddly, aren't you? Yeah … Papa loves to spoil you, pet, yes I do. You're so precious …"

 _"Wil …,"_ Dark's voice was heard from the other room. Wilford let out a deep sigh, looking at you in a playful way.

"Looks like Daddy is a little impatient," Wilford winked, standing up and straightened his suspenders. "C'mon, kitten, up."

You rose to your two feet, following Wilford into the lounge room, the large fireplace crackling, Dark sitting in a leather winged-backed chair, setting his glass of wine down as his dark eyes landed on you. You loved Dark as much as Wilford, but his domineering demeanor and stare always made you shiver - that power making you weaker in your natural submission, and you loved it. Once you stood before Dark, you immediately went to your knees, bowing to Dark as you've usually done to acknowledge your place beneath Dark as his submissive; you say up on your heels, palms laying up and open on your thighs, seeing his eyes soften after you displayed your submission to him. 

_"Wil and I have thought about something … to make things official and … permanent,"_ Dark began. _"We had played with the idea of getting you tattooed, but didn't seem to be either of us. That is why, toy, in addition to our contract, a simple branding would suffice to cement our bonds further."_

Your eyes subtly widened at the thought of being branded by your Masters. Dark saw your jaw slightly drop at the mention of it, your mouth quickly shutting when his gaze turned a little sour.

_"Do you object to such a thing?"_

You shook your head. "N-no, Master, just surprised is all, sir." Your cheeks turned red out of embarrassment and being flustered. Dark's eyes softened, nodding his head. You knew what objection to anything Dark said would bring onto you - you learned quickly to trust him and obey him, doing so brought rewards. 

_"Then it's settled."_ He rose approaching you to remove the collar around your neck and set it on the end table next to his chair, your body shivering knowing it was playtime once the collar came off. You felt Wilford's hands on your shoulders, giving your cheek and neck a quick peck before he joined Dark's side, the two of them sharing kisses that turned wet and passionate; you were left to watch for now, being an object that idly sat by waiting to be used. 

They undressed each other, Dark sensually stroking Wil's cock, the taller of the two grinned and purred, burying his face into Dark's neck and shoulder giving him kisses and sucked on his skin. Once their bodies were completely naked the two worshipped each other a bit more - Dark kissed and groped at Wilford's buff chest, sucking a tit that made Wil moan in delight, gripping Dark's hair and pulled him away to wildly make out with him. They pulled away from each other, glancing over at you, their eyes darting back to one another; you had been trembling a bit, your eyes glued to their cocks mostly, your folds glistening in want and need for them, lightly biting your bottom lip.

Wilford saw the need in your eye, walking over to the leather couch, patting his legs; you crawled over on hands and knees, rising to give his dick a quick suck and lick before climbing onto him and sunk yourself down on his girthy length, your walls and folds feeling full. Wilford's hands caressed your thighs, gripping your ass a little and massaged it, giving a deep satisfied hum; one hand kept on your ass while one went to grope the supple flesh on your chest, his mouth leaning in to suck on a nipple, groping your other breast. Cold hands placed themselves on your shoulder and thigh, leaning you into Wil more; Dark spread your cheeks, purring lowly as he prepped your puckered hole, shivers running up your spine from his cold touch and kisses along your neck and shoulders. 

You lightly moan and mewl, getting kissed and sucked on as you cockwarmed one Master while another was getting your other hole ready. Dark's fingers were replaced by his thick length, both his and Wil's cocks making you feel so full and wonderful, a loud moan came out as Dark sunk deeper until he fully sat inside your ass. Your two Masters worked in sync thrusting into you, you helping some by moving up and down Wilford's shaft, gasping and moaning from the fullness in your holes. Dark's cold kisses continued on your shoulders and neck, leaning your head back into him; Wilford gripped at your thighs, producing a knife out of thin air and dragged the blade gently across your chest. 

You gasped at the sensation, seeing the knife dance across your skin, shaking in rising danger and fear - you'd never experienced playtime with a knife before. You also saw a wild unhinged look in Wilford's eye as he toyed the knife across your frame, one of his hands gripped hair in the back of your head harshly, the blade against your throat, Wilford thrusting and humping into you in an animalistic manner. 

_"You're safe, kitten. You trust him."_ You nodded best you could, humming from the sensation of two dicks inside you fucking your holes while a knife was dangerously close to your skin. Wilford gently glided the knife down to your chest, the blade barely scratching the skin, it felt like he was shaving imaginary hair on your chest; the tip of the blade came down your abdomen and ghosted over your lips. Wilford put the blade broadly against your mouth, without needing to be ordered, you gradually lick the wide flat side of the knife, Wilford smiling in approval. 

"Good kitten," he grinned, placing the blunt edge of the blade against your throat and pressed it into the skin, repeating the same feral thrusting, Dark matching his pace. One of Dark's hands wrapped itself around your throat below the blade, gently squeezing your neck; you moaned loudly and mewled, your Masters soon cumming deep inside you. Dark reached a hand towards the firepit, the hot branding iron floating to his waiting hand.

As you came shortly after, you felt a burning sting on your right thigh and buttcheek. You screamed from the pain, the searing lasting for five long seconds before it came off but the pain was still there; Dark's icy cold touch soothed it somewhat, you shook and whimpered, getting soft kisses from both your Masters, soft praises came to your ears from them. You were carefully eased off them and was placed into Wilford's embrace after Dark put a blanket around your shoulders. Wil held your close, cradling your upper half, you curled up into him, sniffling and shaking from the singeing pain.

"You did very well, kitten. Papa and Daddy are proud of you, baby. Such a good pet," Wilford softly cooed, petting your hair. 

Dark returned with a colder compress, pressing it gently against the new branding on your thigh, inspecting it now and then. After a while you managed to sneak a look down at it - a W and a D meshed together in the middle, the back of the D formed from the last stroke of the W. The brand was now a permanent reminder of who you are to Wilford and Dark - theirs. And it made you softly smile at that. You were theirs.


	15. So Wrong, Yet So Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 15 - before and after/cum inflation/science gone wrong
> 
> Characters - AFAB reader, Mark, Dr. Iplier

After several attempts trying to succeed in conceiving, the prospects were looking bleak for you and Mark. You both wanted to try parenthood once, but the signs of possible infertility in your body was becoming apparent. On a routine appointment with your physician, the question came out of Mark’s mouth.

“Doc, you help other couples with … possible infertile problems, don’t you?”

Dr. Iplier paused his work, eyes darting back and forth at the desk before turning his stool to the two of you, panicked eyes quickly smiled. “Why, yes, yes I do.” He looked at you, his eyes scanning your body. “And I think I know just the trick to help them with their little … possible infertile problem.”

“Shouldn’t you do a test with them first to see if they are?” Mark inquired, you were too taken aback by the bluntness of the conversation, let alone Mark asking Dr. Iplier. 

“I mean, yes, I could but I can see that the two of you want the fast track to becoming parents to a healthy baby, so I’m gonna prescribe the two of you,” grabbing a pad and pen, Dr. Iplier jotted down the prescription, “a trial dose of a new drug that is possibly still in development but hearing from other test takers, it works wonders!”

“Wait, why do I need to be prescribed too …”

“Did you say ‘possibly still in development’? Then it shouldn’t be ready …”

“Shh, shh, like I said it’s a trial. It’s not ready yet for the masses but it helps increase chances of conceiving, so you two shouldn’t have a problem,” he ripped the paper off the pad, handing it to you. You hesitantly took it, hardly reading the doctor’s scribbling; you looked to Mark with an odd glance, the two of you shrugging. 

“Oh, could we also get a quick before photo of you two?” The even odder glance was shot at the doctor. “They’d like a before and after photo of couples who do the trial.” You sighed through your nose, Mark and you gave a nod.

Once you both got home, you looked at your respective packet with a single pill in it. Mark and you exchanged glances, taking deep breaths as the pill was popped out of the packet and into your mouths, swallowing it with a glass of water shared between you two. You both hoped that this worked. 

Mark sat deep inside you, the two of you sharing a moan, Mark peppered your neck and jaw with kisses, hips rolling into you; you wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms under his pits, hands digging into his back. Your foreheads touched, taking a moment to breathe together, savoring this moment. 

“You ready?” he asked in a pant. Nodding against his forehead, Mark started his thrusts at a steady pace, a heat suddenly grew in his cock and balls just as you were feeling a heat rising in your folds and uterus. It wasn’t a terrible heat, it was more like a comforting warmth that was focused in your respective genitals for a moment before spreading across your bodies. Mark paused for a moment as his brain sputtered for a brief second - his eyes closed briefly before they snapped open, a strange faint glow about them. 

“Um … Mark? There’s … something about your eyes …”

His brows furrowed. “There’s … something about yours too …” He was seeing your eyes give a faint glow about them. “Do you think it’s the …”

“No … why … why would it be?” you ask, not knowing that the pill you both ingested blocked out inhibitions and caution, making the two of you oblivious to the effects the pill would soon have on you.

“Right, I’m sure it’s nothing. They do look pretty tho, I think that’s what I was trying to get at,” Mark grinned, giggling a little. 

“Yeah, same,” you giggled back, sharing a kiss with him, a small moan humming through your lips. “So pretty …” There was a delicate blue glow in his eyes, your own giving the same hue. Both your eyes looked dazed and wild, filled with a growing lust for each other, Mark’s hips moving again but at a harder pace this time. 

You hung on as tight as you could, throwing your head back in a moan, your walls clamping around his frantic humping cock. Mark growled against your skin, pausing to bring your knees to your chest and pressed down on them, pounding into like an animal in heat, a desire to breed you in his entire being. 

“God … Jesus … Mark …,” you panted and mewled, letting yourself to be taken by him, your pussy leaking fluids, acting as lubrication, the wet sounds of his rough and hard fucking driving you mad as it in turn had the same effect on him, Mark picking up the pace, growling and panting hot and heavy in your ear. 

It wasn’t long until you both came hard, Mark whined and yelped when he came, feeling a geyser shoot from his cock, pumping a heavy load into you … but it kept flowing out even after the fact he came down from his high. You both panted and huffed, weakly holding each other, Mark sat inside you still, purring and peppered kisses on your jaw and lips. You moaned in bliss, rubbing your growing belly and - wait … your belly was growing?!

You looked down to see your abdomen was growing, looking three months … then four … five, six … Mark felt your belly against him, looking down and sitting up, watching your belly grow. You were both dumbfounded by this discovery, Mark was becoming aware of his churning and twitching balls that were still delivering seed into your growing womb. 

“What … this … the science does not add up here …,” Mark mused aloud. “This is like science gone wrong …” You watching his eyes furrow then smooth out, the glow in his eyes rippled across them, a smile came on his face. “Or gone right.” 

You had the same thoughts, bewildered turned into excitement and joy. The two of you held hands, watching your belly slowly inflated to looking nine months pregnant, Mark’s hand rubbing your cum belly with a proud look in his eyes; your other hand joined his, humming in delight, both your gazes widened in joyful surprise when your belly surpassed nine months and still grew, your womb inflated by copious amounts of cum. 

The two of you giggled delight as your belly grew a little larger, Mark groaning and humping you as his cock kept unloading more cum until it began to peter out; both of you were also unaware that the pill had slight effects on your mind, both of you feeling giggly and a little vapid or simple. 

“Maybe we should, um, take that after photo the doc told us to do,” you moaned out, rubbing your overly round belly. 

“Totally, like, we should. Cos, I mean, he told us to anyway,” Mark pulled out halfway, slightly panicking. “What if all that cum comes rushing out?”

“Babe, it’s fine, my lil pill thingee said that I’ll be able to hold it all in, so, like, nothing is gonna spill out,” you assured Mark who grinned back and pulled out all the way, the cervix sealing tight, keeping all that cum inside. 

“Whoa,” Mark mused at his cock which had grown a little in length and thickness, balls a little larger as well, two baseball sized testes hanging. He showed you his changed groin which made your mouth salivate, you bit your bottom lip, looking at him playfully.   
Mark shared the same sly grin, grabbing his phone and took snapshots of you and him for the before and after set, sending them to Dr. Iplier. The doctor looked at the after photos, a grin appeared on his lips, informing the company of their newest clients. 

Two more satisfied customers and cogs being added to the machine.


	16. They See All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 16 - Eyes/humiliation/forced to beg or hallucinations
> 
> Characters - Yancy

Yancy usually slept peacefully, but there were some nights he’d toss and turn, mumbling before he started to scream in his sleep and wake himself up covered in sweat - this was one of those nights. He was curled up tight on his bed, incoherently babbling to himself under his breath, head shaking, chest heaving as he dreamed. 

He woke up in a dark void on a solitary bed, shivering in the bleak coldness of the vast space. As he sat up a lone light shined on something in the far distance, Yancy’s brows furrowed, rising from the bed and took a first few steps before the void became a long hallway with rows of cell doors. He took a three steps back, finding himself against a brick wall, turning back to the light at the end of the hallway. 

Every cell he passed he couldn’t help but notice some faces looked familiar, half the faces the same ones - the others weren’t faces at all but eyes that floated in the dark spaces, watching him as Yancy kept walking. They were all watching him … it started to send shivers down his spine. Those eyes know something … they’ve seen him do things that landed him in prison. 

Yancy gulped hard, getting nervous as he got closer. He passed one cell, a hand reached out and grabbed his wrist; Yancy saw the face of a dark skinned man his age, a fresh looking wound in his eye - he remembered who this fellow was. 

“Domino …,” Yancy gasped. “Youse … but youse died …”

“I may have … but I still live in your head, Yance,” Domino sneered, the grip on Yancy’s wrist twisted and burned. “Every single one of us does. Me, Stitch, not to mention others you took lives from … even your own parents.”

Yancy tried to yank himself away from the hallucination, shaking his head furiously. “N-no … I … youse … youse isn’t real … you … dis is a dream … I … I can wake up from this …” He shut his eyes tight, a dark chuckle behind him broke his concentration. 

“We’re very real, Yancy,” a battered face and burned face poked through the dark in a different cell spoke. “We all never left you. Like Dom said, we still live on in your memory.”

Yancy was let go, his gaze seeing the bashed in face. “Tommy …”

“You know you can’t run and hide from what you did, Yance,” Tommy came up to the bars. 

“B-But I’m doing my time, I-I-I didn’t run and hide …”

“But you did, Yance. For a good while at least. After you killed your folks, how many more?” Domino chimed in. “And how many before? We used to string guys on telephone poles in the dead of night. You cut Jimmy Bosco into ribbons in that fight.”

“I was defending my honor in that fight,” Yancy objected. “Bosco insulted me and youse guys, I was doing what was right as a leader. I don't feel guilty about Bosco’s death.”

“Alright, but what about the others? What about me and Tommy?”

“Yeah, Yance. You left me to die in that fire, and you shot Domino right in the face.”

Yancy fell silent, finding those accusations unanswerable. He didn’t have anything to justify it. Domino took Yancy’s girl from him, and Tommy - Yancy was saving his own skin and found Tommy a burden when they were caught in a building that was set ablaze. They all knew the truth. Yancy couldn’t bring himself to admit it all. 

“Just leave me alone,” Yancy muttered. 

“Answer for your crimes, Yance.”

“I am! I’m paying time, aren’t I? Youse is all imaginary, get outta here, I don’t wanna see youse no more,” he snarled at his ex-gang members. 

“Just remember. They saw it all. You can’t escape from them.”

Yancy didn’t heed that warning, scoffing as he kept walking. They saw it all. Was Tommy talking about ghosts? There’s no such thing. But maybe it wasn’t ghosts in what preconceived notions were. In a sense … Yancy felt like he was being watched everywhere he went, every crime he’d commit he hoped the eyes weren’t watching him, trying to do muggings and killings out of sight. Dark alleys, corridors, you name it. 

As he drew closer to the light he could see what it was - an electric chair. Yancy stopped in his tracks, turning to go back but found the brick wall had closed him in. He pounded on the brick, clawing at it in desperation, glancing back at the chair in terror. 

“N-no … no please,” he begged to the void. “Don’t … don’t put me in that, please! I-I beg of you … I don’t deserve that …”

“We saw it all …,” a disembodied voice above rang out, spectral eyes popped up above Yancy. _“We saw everything - the deaths of your gang members, the innocent lives you took … your own parents …”_

“Don’t please! Just let me go!” he cried out, feeling a force drag him to the chair, Yancy kicked and screamed his way to it. He was shoved into it, the straps tightened themselves at his wrists and arms, ankles and legs, chest and abdomen. “I’ll … I’ll do anything youse want!”

 _“Beg all you like. We like hearing you beg. It makes things so much more enjoyable for us,”_ a different disembodied voice spoke. _“Pathetic weakling.”_

Yancy whimpered and writhed in the chair, a headband with pads and electrodes and wires was placed on his head, a strap came across his neck to keep his head relatively in place. He shook in fear, tears streaming down his cheeks as he helplessly begged, seeing hallucinations of past victims pop up before him.

_“No one cares for your whimpering, you deplorable oaf. Feel how helpless you are, sink into the shoes of your victims. Feel how they felt. You are a weak and feeble wretch.”_

Yancy groaned and cried out at the humiliating name calling, trying to bust out of the restraints and show them who’s boss. After thrashing about his eyes fell upon the hallucinations of his parents, eyes filled with anger. He hated them both, he sneered and snarled at them. 

“Go away! I don’t want to see either of youses,” he growled. “Youse treated me with no respect, like some animal.”

A post with a lever appeared next to Yancy’s parents, their hands going to grasp the handle. Yancy’s eyes widened in panic and fear, the eyes drew closer as the disembodied voices laughed. 

_“You will answer for your crimes how we see fit. You are hereby sentenced to the chair. They’re all waiting for you. As are we.”_ Yancy screamed as he pleaded to his dead parents to stop, but his begging fell on deaf ears as the lever came down and thousands of volts entered Yancy’s skull, his body shaking and jerking in the chair as he was electrocuted, a final scream emitting from him. 

Yancy woke himself up in a terrible scream, sitting up in bed. He pulled his knees up to his chest, the nightmare still fresh in his mind. _They’re waiting for you …_ He sniffled hard, shaking from the sensation of being watched by unseen forces, glancing about his cell, that faint feeling creeping in the back of his mind. The eyes … they were watching him even now. They all were, the ghosts of his past. Yancy gripped his head, messing his hair as he tried to calm himself down, whimpering softly under his breath to be left alone. 

“Yance?” he heard a soft voice ask him, glancing up to see the handsome and/or beautiful face of his cellmate, staring down at him with concern. “You okay?”

Yancy shook his head, his cellmate coming down from their bunk and curled up with Yancy in his bed; they weren’t a light sleeper but sensed something was wrong. Yancy snuggled tight against them, burying his head into their chest as he softly cried himself to sleep, the embrace of his cellmate making him feel safe from the nightmare.


	17. King's Sapphire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 17 - candles/size difference
> 
> Characters - Reader, Captain Magnum

“First mate, yer cap’n would like to see ye if’n ya could,” Magnum’s voice called out from the deck as you were checking the stock and cargo. 

You climbed the ladder just enough your head poked up through the hatch to the storage. Magnum peered down at you from his towering height, a grin was underneath his bushy beard; the giant pirate hunkered down on his tree stump peg legs, getting closer to you. 

“I’d be lookin’ to parlay with ye over a … delicate matter,” Magnum glanced about the other pirates tending their duties. Your brows furrowed as to what he meant, but you could see on the captain’s cheeks they were red - and you also noticed over the course of a week Magnum has given you bedroom eyes, which was at first a surprise but you often fantasized about being held close to him and much more. You nodded your head, getting up on the deck and followed Magnum to his quarters. 

“I be findin’ it hard to say what be on my mind with ye and, well …,” Magnum started as he shut the door, “fer our sakes I’ll blather it anyway - I like ye. I do.” He paused seeing your cheeks become pink then red. “I see ye fancy me as well.” With a nod of your head, he beams in a jolly tone. “Poseidon’s pearl! Fate has blessed us indeed!” He approaches you and lifts you up in an embrace. The eight foot two inch pirate holds you tight, you can smell his scent - tobacco and rum mostly. It’s enough to make you hug back, nuzzling into him; Magnum took notice of this, a dark brow perking up, a grin under his bushy appearance curled on his lips. 

“Mayhaps we be makin’ this official, agreed?” he muttered in your ear, his gruff rumble soothing to you. A small affirming noise from you and a nod, and Magnum already has you at his bed. He removes his shirt and vest, you tear off your pants and shirt, your naked body basking in the candlelight about the bed; Magnum pulls out his thick and a little over a foot long length from his pants, your mouth hangs open at the size of it - you don’t think it’ll fit! It was so large! 

“Don’t ye worry,” Magnum chuckled, coyly grinning. “I’ll make it fit.”

He climbed into bed, looming over you like a giant bear, his burly and hairy chest littered with his musk as it invaded your nose; you breathe deeply, letting out a purr, his coarse hand felt your body up, fingers circling your hole, using his pinky first. Your breath hitched, a moan soon followed as the captain fingered and prodded your most sensitive areas. The smell of tobacco and rum and other spices clogging your sinuses, seeing him through the haze with a warm grin on his face; Magnum continued his ministrations until you slick enough to where he grabbed his stiffening rod, lining the fist or bigger sized head at your entrance, easing it in slowly. 

Your hands reached above you to grab at the pillows, Magnum covered your mouth as your loud moan filled the cabin. The head wasn’t completely in and you could sense that it all wasn’t going to fit in entirely - but knowing the captain he’ll see to it that it will fit. Your hole was stretched wide at the large size, your body and head arching against the bed, eyes rolling up as more of his monstrous cock sunk inside you. 

“Relax, me hearty,” Magnum lowly purred in your ear. “Relax that hole of yours. Mayhaps I use ye as my cocksleeve, cockwarming me so ye get used to the size of me sea serpent.”

Those words had you rolling your hips into him, your hole relaxing more as Magnum slid more of his shaft inside you. You managed to look down and see your belly bulging from the sheer size of him, gasping and faintly shaking. One of the candles above you dripped a bit of wax on your shoulder, the brief sensation made you shiver more; Magnum saw the reaction, reaching for the candle and poured a little bit more on your chest. You had so many sensations happening at once your brain overloaded, the torrential waves of pleasure pulling you down into the depths of bliss; the slight burn of the wax, Magnum’s cock buried deep inside you now, his musk permanently cemented in your nose - this was heaven. 

“Like a bit of pain with pleasure, I see,” he comments in a purring tone, taking a different candle and pouring the wax from that in a diagonal pattern on your chest, slowly pulling out halfway and sinking into your hole in a rough manner. You let out a long groan, a small yelp at the end before it morphed into a mewl, feeling like jelly underneath Magnum as the captain proceeded to stretch your hole in a hard pace; you were being stretched to your limits (so far anyway - the thought of being used to Magnum’s sheer massive size excited you, gaping and easily taking him in), easily spent and covered in wax from the candles. 

As Magnum came hard inside you, you tried to hold onto him but your body was in a puddle of sweat and wax, limp and breathless; his cum started to seep out as he filled you deep, the captain panting and shivering. 

“By the gods of the seven seas … you … feel grand around my mighty spear,” he huffed, groaning as he humped you. Magnum laid kisses on your flushed face and body, sitting himself up as he grabbed your body gently, using you like a toy as he moved you up and down his shaft, groaning loudly. “Oh, ye be all I ever wanted …” He grit his teeth, giving a few more thrusts and came again hard inside you, a trail of cum running down the inside of your thighs, hole squeezing and milking his cock. “Ye look beautiful, me hearty. Like a king’s sapphire.” 

You weakly moaned, mind a blur with bliss and pleasure, a smile creeping onto your lips. Magnum shared a smile with you, raising your head to his lips as he gave a small peck to your forehead. It was quite the night in his cabin, the other crew mates didn’t dare disturb Magnum for fear of seeing their giant captain naked and annoyed.


	18. New Form of "Alone Time"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 18 - starvation/sensory deprivation/panic attacks
> 
> Characters - Yancy, Warden Murderslaughter, original character

“Murder-Slaughter, you’re being too lenient on these inmates,” the prison governor sat in the warden’s chair at his desk. “The way this prison system is supposed to run, rehabilitation does not work.”

Murder-Slaughter looked very confused when his boss said this, brows furrowing. “But, sir … that is what Happy Trails is about, it’s all about the rehabilitation of my inmates, many of which I call family. We run things differently here than the other prisons you look after, you gave this facility an exception from the way the others are run.” 

The prison governor nodded slowly. “I know that, but what I’m trying to get at here is, we got a new form of solitary that I’d like to test run, but keep it under the rug and hush hush, so to speak.”

Murder-Slaughter tilted his head to the side subtly. “I don’t quite follow, Governor.”

“I’m saying don’t speak about this to anyone. We tried it once at a different facility, which was started as a one time thing, but saw a … development in the inmate we tested it out on.” The prison governor paused, glancing up at Murder-Slaughter. “Who’s your rowdiest inmate here? A real troublemaker with violent tendencies.”

The warden bit his lip, having the exact prisoner in mind but knew the inmate was on good behavior this whole week and got a special privilege for such good conduct. Murder-Slaughter drew a deep sigh. “I do have one, but … I don’t want to subject him to -”

“Who is it? I don’t care if he got a gold star for being a good boy, I want a name and arrange something to test run this new system.” 

The warden sighed again, darting his brief averted gaze back up to his boss, giving him the name of the individual. 

Yancy strolled down the corridor to his cell, whistling a show tune; he had a piece paper he crumpled up from playing a game with a fellow inmate, tossing it at a waste bin but the ball bounced off the rim and landed on the floor. 

“Hey,” a guard snipped. “Pick that up, inmate.”

Yancy drew his brows at the guard. “I was gonna do it anyway.” He bent down and threw it in the bin, whistling again. 

“Are you giving me lip, boy? And quit whistling. It’s irritating.” The inmate stopped in his tracks, turning on his heels. 

“No, I wasn’t,” Yancy shoved his hands in his pockets. “I was finishing that tune anyway, so if youse’ll let me be on my way …”

“Quit sassing me, inmate.”

Yancy spun around on his heels again towards the guard. “Like I says, I weren’t givin’ youse no lip. I was gonna pick it up anyway and throw it in the trash, a’ight?” His face showed annoyance.

“Don’t use that tone and give me that look, inmate, get back to your cell.”

“I was just on my way there! Look, I ain’t no quarrel wit’ youse, a’ight? Why youse being the one with the attitude?” Yancy shook his head and started to walk and whistle the rest of his tune. Pretty soon heavy footsteps were heard as guards piled on Yancy, the inmate kicking and yelling at the guards to get off him, his lights getting punched out resulting in a broken nose. 

He woke up sitting in a chair, but couldn’t move his arms - a straightjacket had been tight to his person, his arms forced in a self embrace; Yancy thrashed about in it, grumbling to himself before he further investigated his surroundings. He was in a very tight and small cubicle that had a hinged roof and a door, barely enough room to stretch his legs out but they were restrained to the chair he was bound to; it was similar to an electric chair sans the electrocution part, the high back having straps for extra security. Yancy’s breath started to hitch as he gradually hyperventilated. 

“What … what’s goin’ on here?” he called out. 

“You talked back to an officer, not to mention assaulting a few, you landed yourself in solitary confinement, inmate,” the prison governor’s voice was heard behind Yancy. He moved to the front to get a good look at the prisoner, chuckling at the dried blood on Yancy’s upper lip and a black eye forming. “Well, a new kind of ‘alone time’, I should say.”

“Mister Murder-Slaugher! I know youse is there! Youse know I did nothin’ wrong! I got framed, warden!” Yancy called out to the door behind the governor. Murder-Slaughter looked through the window to the cell, looking guilty and sorry that he had to do this to his favorite prisoner. When receiving no response, Yancy began to panic a little. “P-please, I-I-I honestly did nothin’ wrong, didn’t start no fight, no nothin’. Murder-Slaughter knows that. Sure, I get … carried away, b-but youse gotta believe me, I’ve changed, I-I’m gettin’ better. I-I might even g-get parole for a little while but … I did … terrible things …” His voice dropped. “I know I did.” He thought back to his crimes, how he landed in here. “But what I did a while ago was a set up. I never attack on the dime. Not … not unless provoked …”

“You’re not making a good case for yourself, inmate,” the governor sighed, wanting to get this show on the road. “Which is why you landed here. Now, be a good boy and open wide.”

Yancy drew his brows together, seeing two guards come up with a piece of headgear that looked like a head harness with a blindfold and a muzzle that had a mouthguard as the gag; the inmate ducked and weaved best he could before he was decked in the face again, dazed temporarily as the guard gag was fitted in first, Yancy groaned against it as his vision was cut off subsequently, deeply breathing through his nose as the straps and buckles were really snug around his head, two to three small padlocks securing them in place. Yancy whined and groaned against the gag once he was coming to, his neck and head secured to the back of the chair, a shaky whine came out of him as the governor stepped forward. 

“Have a nice time, inmate,” was all he said before heavy duty silicone earplugs were fitted in Yancy’s ears, blocking out all sound as well. The extremely tight confines he was in was also deafened by the foam and carpet padding, the roof of the cubicle closing shut; Yancy’s breath hitched and began hyperventilating, a panic attack hitting him hard as he screamed against the gag, crying and begging as he tried to move about but to no avail. 

He didn’t do well in tight spaces, his claustrophobia bringing on a massive panic attack as his heart raced in his chest, Yancy shaking violently in his bonds, screaming at the top of his lungs, silently begging to be let out of this hell. He cried and sobbed, trying to bust loose, his only source of air were the holes drilled at the bottom of the tight box. Several hours later, with his voice hoarse, and panic still present, Yancy’s thrashing became less and less, having hardly any fight in him, for now at least. His stomach growled intensely, Yancy weakly whined and moaned, the hunger getting to him. 

In the hell that was his high panicking, he wondered if anyone was going to come let him out. He did his time in here - why hadn’t he been freed? Yancy cried out against the gag, sobbing more, not wanting to take part in this anymore, he wanted out! What little energy he had left he rocked back and forth to try and break the straps. Hours pass, then a day … then two days … three days … four … 

By the sixth day, the tight box was opened, the chair’s straps were undone and Yancy’s body was carried out and set on a stretcher. The inmate rolled his head weakly from side to side, very hoarse whines came out of him; Murder-Slaughter looked on Yancy’s starved form with pity, glancing at the prison governor who had a smirk on his face, daggers in the warden’s eyes. This wasn’t proper solitary confinement - this was torture. 

“Six days in the box. Another two to three days in a tight coffin sized pool of salt water to aid in the disorientation the inmate is currently feeling,” the governor explained briefly to the warden on the next procedures. “Once they’re out, they’re too dazed and confused to make sense of things. The mind easily pliable to tell them what you want them to believe.” 

“You’d rather I brainwash my inmates?” Murder-Slaughter objected. “And just what are we to tell them?” 

“Forget this ever happened, that they spent a regular amount of time in solitary and that they should be on their way,” the governor elaborated. “Like I said, keep this practice hush hush. By conditioning the inmates to believe that this type of solitary never happened, this will never reach the masses.”

Murder-Slaughter bit his tongue, internally kicking himself for letting this procedure happen, his eyes darted to see Yancy’s weak form get put in another soundproof structure, a tight coffin with cuffs for his wrists and ankles, the salt water at the right temperature for further sensory deprivation. The lid closed, the warden looked away, feeling sorry for Yancy. 

He faintly moaned, his mind sinking further and breaking down from the three day panic attack before that settled and spaced out for three more days, now feeling weightless in a different tight space, which brought on another claustrophobic panic attack that lasted a few more hours. Yancy couldn’t tell up from down anymore, feeling his body and mind spinning in a vast space, like he was melting into nothingness. His voice too sore and hoarse to vocalize, mind unable to tell things apart, Yancy slipped further the next day … and the next … and the next …

Light harshly greeted his eyes, a barely audible whine came out of the inmate, the plugs and blindfold and gag muzzle had been removed from his head hours ago; he was laid on a regular cot in a regular solitary confinement cell, Yancy weakly moved, trying to sit up but fell forward onto the cement floor. The cell door opened, two guards carefully sat him up on the cot, Murder-Slaughter entering with a guilty and remorseful look on his face, stealing himself for a moment before putting on a brave face. 

“Well, Yancy? Have something to say?” he inquired. 

He was dazed, vision swimming, his barely open eyes landing on the warden; Yancy tried to form words but none came out, his mind incapable of forming even a sound. 

Murder-Slaughter got close to the inmate’s face, remembering what the prison governor told him to do. “This never happened. Got that? You weren’t starved and boxed up for nine to ten days. This never happened. It never happened. You spent your usual three days in solitary, okay? What happened to you this past week and a half never happened.”

“Never … happened …,” Yancy managed to weakly get out. 

“That’s right, what happened prior to you waking up never took place.” 

“What … happened …”

“Nothing, Yancy. Nothing happened. You spent your three days in solitary. That’s all.”

“Okay … nothing … happened ...”

“Good boy. Now then, let’s get you back to your cell block and get you some grub, huh?”

Murder-Slaughter watched Yancy get carried and escorted out of solitary, shakily breathing out once the door to this wing was shut. He felt sick to his stomach what he just subjected Yancy to, going further and pleaded to the prison governor to never do this again. But his pleas were shot down. 

Several more inmates - including Yancy two weeks later - were subjected to this kind of solitary confinement. And it proved to be a success.


	19. All Tied Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 19 - lighter/edgeplay/shibari
> 
> Characters - Reader, Illinois

You and Illinois were shacked up in an encampment in the hills deep in the countryside. You were dragged along with him to find a lost artifact he recently discovered was not entirely lost to the sands of time; sitting by the campfire, you played with your lighter you kept with you, it was one of those lighters kept the flame burning until you closed the cap on it. Flicking the wheels, letting it burn, then close it. Fast way to burn the oil in it, but you became bored the last few hours. Illinois had gone off to speak with the locals about the specifics of the artifact. 

“Well, from what the village leader told me, it’ll be a two day ride to the location he believes it’s in and … something wrong, darlin’ ?” Illinois asked as he got back to camp, seeing the resting face you had on. 

You shook your head. “You’re not … bored already, are you? I know it’s been a drag trying to get to this point, but surely it hasn’t been that bad …” You stop your fidgeting with the lighter, looking to Illinois with a slightly annoyed look on your face. It had been a long trek. A long … boring trek. You didn’t quite have the adventuring spirit and attitude like Illy did. 

Illinois’ expression turned into a slight smirk. “I think I know how to pass the time,” he came closer to you, stopping by a large duffel bag. “I picked this up when I traveled in Japan, returning an idol to a shrine. It originates from hojo-jutsu, or tying a person up in an intricate manner for torturing, but then morphed into something beautiful. Kinbaku. Or as it’s known in some circles - shibari.”

Your brows draw up in growing intrigue as Illy brings out feet upon feet of rope bundled nicely. He gives you a smirk, seeing your cheeks turn pink. “Wanna try it?” You slowly nod your head, the adventurer keeping his smirk on his face. “Figured you would.” He grabbed a large blanket and set it on the ground, motioning you to come over. “One small addition … undress from the waist down. Or if you’re comfy … just undress altogether.”

Very curious what else Illinois had in store, you obliged and undressed entirely, the cool air on your skin felt nice, a break from the heat that was present all day. Illy had you sit as he tied a pentagram chest harness around you first, watching him work around you, feeling the rope gently hug you; from there your wrists and arms were tied behind you, a soft hum escaped you now and then, the snugness of the rope making you fuzzy and feeling good. Illinois noticed you space out, a small warm grin came onto his lips. 

“Feels wonderful, don’t it?” You nodded your head sleepily, eyes hazy as they smiled at him. Illinois soon wrapped your legs in a frog tie position that also allowed you to sit on your heels, stepping back to fully admire his work now; that floaty sensation in your mind made you sink further into it, looking up at Illy with a soft compliant expression. 

“How you doing, darlin’? Feeling good?” You lazily nod, Illy smirking as he came behind you, planting soft kisses on your neck, his hands roaming your bound body. One hand trailed south and massaged at your most sensitive organ, stroking and rubbing it slowly, drawing your further into a blissful state. His other hand groped at the soft tissue on your chest, pulling gently at a nipple, all of this eliciting a moan out of you. “There we go … keeping moaning, darlin’.”

His hand massaged and stroked at a faster pace, his breath hot in your neck, making you groan and push back against him, hips rolling and bucking into his hand, fingers soon dipping into your hole, diligently pumping in and out before switching back to your throbbing flesh. The speed was quick and rough, teetering over the edge … until his hands stopped. You panted and huffed, looking back at him with a confused and pleading look in your eye. 

“Not letting you get away that easily,” Illinois smirked playfully. “I’m going to draw this out for as long as possible.”

Two minutes of cooldown from the stimulation turned into five … then ten … then fifteen minutes. Illinois edged you to the point of near sobbing, begging to cum. His hands worked expertly around your aching flesh and hole, rubbing and massaging in all the right places, pumping fast and hard in and out. At one point he brought out your lighter, holding the flame close at a safe distance to not singe or burn your skin, the gentle heat adding on to the overwhelming sensations happening. 

Illinois looked at your shivering and flushed body with a soft glee on his face, eyes twinkling at how flustered and needy he got you to be, all from being tied up and edged to near mindlessness. He sighed to himself, getting back behind you, kissing your cheek.

“Alright, darlin’. I’ll give it to you, you can scream and cry in pleasure all you want,” he purred, his hand diving once again between your legs and started his ministrations in a slow manner but built up the speed quickly. He didn’t stop this time, Illinois held you close against his chest, his hand stroking and massaging your sensitive flesh in a frantic pace. “Cum for me, darlin’. I wanna hear you scream my name.”

A large rolling tide of ecstasy crashed down on you hard, shouting Illy’s name to the dark skies and stars above, body quivering as you came in a mind melting orgasm; you mewled and moaned as you came down from your high, Illinois soon undoing the ropes and grabbed another blanket to drape over your shoulders. He snuggled you close to him, showering your face with soft kisses and gentle petting, whispering soft praises in your ear. 

“Was that good?” You nodded, feeling sleepy as your eyes gradually closed, a corner of your lips turned up as the euphoria lingered the rest of the night. The fire smoldered a while after you both dozed, and when you came to, you saw the rope marks which were prominent the night before were still present but not as red and pronounced. You smiled to yourself in remembering the snug sensation of the rope around you … you wouldn’t mind Illinois doing this again with you.


	20. Little Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 20 - dark secret/chastity/medieval
> 
> Characters - medieval monk!Mark (not giving him the standard monk haircut with the bald crown), demon!Dark

“Brother Mark, how does thee fare on this day?” 

The monk looked to his fellow monastery brother from his manuscript writing, exchanging a small smile in the corner of his mouth. “It goes well, Brother Francis,” was the simple answer. 

“I must say I’m pleasantly surprised to see a man your age joining the monastery,” Francis tucked his hands in his sleeves together. “Quite refreshing from the much older friars here. Once you’ve spent enough time here, I’m sure the abbot would task you to preach to the younger crowd.” He paused, softly smiling. “I was your age once when I first joined. And I thank God every day.”

Mark gave a quick nod, the small smile still on his lips. “Most men my age get themselves into trouble more, so, here I am,” the young monk went back to his writing. 

“He keeps us in line as we show our obedience to Him in such ways, leading us on the right path,” Francis noted, nodding. “You made the right choice, Brother Mark. Blessings upon you and good day.” 

Mark nodded back at Francis as the older friar went about, the younger monk going back to the manuscript. He was detailing along the edges when he felt a very familiar coldness creep up his spine - he froze in his seat, wanting the very reason he became a monk to go away. But still the demon persisted. 

_‘There’s no use hiding from me. I’m here always. Inside you in more ways than one.’_

Mark felt a hand rub his crotch, the monk steadying himself on the stool, body tensing as he lightly huffed. Three years ago, he had come across this entity, or rather it forced itself upon him; and it laid quiet during those three years, but when Mark noticed he had blackouts and woke up to terrible scenes of debauchery it was time he turned to the church and devote his life to God and become a monk. Surely being on holy ground and taking the vows would dissipate the demon. 

This was not the case. 

“Please, leave me, demon,” Mark muttered under his breath, squirming in the stool as the rubbing made his length stiffen. “I have taken a vow of chastity, I do not wish for you to take over and engage my body in … sexual acts.”

 _‘A tempting thought … but since you brought that up … I want to play with you. By claiming chastity, you cannot reach that wonderful climax, which would make me delighted to see you flustered as you force yourself to not come.’_ The hand rubbing Mark’s crotch moved faster and harder, the monk shaking and stifled a noise as to not draw attention to him. _‘It’ll be our little secret. Or at least … your little secret. What would the others think of innocent Brother Mark harboring a demon inside him that forced him into this life? You thought you could get rid of me. Think again, mortal. You let me in -'_

“You were the one who forced yourself onto me.”

 _‘Ah, that’s what you think. You couldn’t keep your eyes off me - the handsome stranger in the tavern. You were too drunk to remember it, but you moaned my name as I came inside your sweet warm body.’_ Mark felt a pair of lips on his jaw and neck, the monk shivered and stifled a moan. He pushed back against the invisible force that stood right behind him, grimacing to not have his throbbing shaft release his seed as the stimulation was becoming too much to bear. 

“This … is … immoral …,” the monk panted.

_‘This is fun. Taking a vow of chastity thrills me even more. I could just toy with you forever, chastising you for having such sinful thoughts and almost giving in to pleasure …’_

“Get thee behind me, deviant,” Mark softly snarled. “Go back to the depths where thou camest from.” 

_‘Good luck with that.’_ At that, the entity left him alone. Mark shivered and panted where he sat, groaning as the lingering sensation of lust was still inside him; the monk rushed to a private chamber, grabbing a flogger as he stripped himself naked, kneeling before a crucifix, proceeding to self-flagellate while begging for forgiveness and to ask to be cleansed of this demon. 

But the entity watched on from the shadows as the monk whipped himself, blood starting to trickle down his back, a smirk on his lips. Even as other monks found Mark nearly unconscious from the self-torture, the demon kept the smile plastered on its face. 

Oh, this was going to be so much fun.


	21. Assimilate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 21 - inner demons/somnophilia/infection
> 
> Characters - male character, Mark

The voices. They were back. They would always come back. They were a plague, an infection upon him (metaphorically and physically); he thought he had been cured, but all it did was leave the small organic mass that was in the center of his torso on his sternum and between his shoulder blades, the tissue’s veins thick and spread further out from the soft clot that began to pulse again. 

Evidently, he wasn’t entirely cured. He turned on his side, curling into a fetal position on his side of the bed, Mark laying next to him in a deep slumber. The voices climbed back into his head, crawling around on the grey matter, burrowing deep back into his conscious and subconscious, growing louder by the minute. 

_Infect … grow … assimilate … fuse … infect …_

He fought hard against their call, the parasitic demons inside that he kept at bay for so long with what drugs he had tried to get rid of them dominated his mind and body, his brain switched into autopilot mode; his eyes glowed a faint green color, the clots on his chest and back pulsated and undulating. He moved under the covers, positioning himself at Mark’s crotch, his mouth just at the boxer brief’s opening, slowly working Mark’s length out; his sleeping partner stirred briefly before settling down, he worked carefully as the shaft was freed. 

His mouth took the head in and gently sucked on it, keeping an eye on Mark as he sucked his partner off. Mark lightly groaned and hummed in his sleep, hips gently rolling as he stirred a bit more then fell back under; the infected partner worked quietly and diligently as they could, their eyes rolling up into their head as he deepthroated Mark, thin tendrils came up from his gut slithering down Mark’s urethra and down into his testicles, starting the infection there. As soon as those tendrils latched on to spread their corruption, Mark’s balls clenched and appeared veiny, twitching and churning new seed. 

Mark faintly gasped, back arching, a hand absentmindedly reaching down to pet his hair, but fell to his side; the partner released their mouth from Mark’s changed shaft, the length veiny and was discolored in a shade of red. Stage one complete, second and final stage commencing. 

Getting Mark’s boxer briefs off in a careful fashion, the partner prepped Mark’s hole, inserting their own corrupted shaft that was already hardened; the length could secrete its own lubrication, the infected host easing himself into Mark’s cavity, the sleeping partner hummed and moaned faintly. Once he sat fully inside, he leaned down to kiss Mark’s cheek, then his lips - as much saliva contact as possible to spread apart from the next phase; with Mark kissing back in his sleep, the infected brought forth a small ovipositor from their gut, the tendril snaking itself into Mark’s mouth and down his throat a bit as a transfer of a small egg passed through into him. Mark gagged a bit but groaned, lolling his head to the side after his partner withdrew momentarily, softly humming again as he slumbered. 

His partner gradually moved his hips, kissing along Mark’s jaw, the thin tendrils emerged when he nibbled his sleeping partner’s earlobe, inserting themselves into Mark’s ears and burrowing their way into his brain. Mark’s eyes snapped open but he wasn’t awake, still deep in his sleep; the infected partner picked a fast and hard pace, breeding that hole while the inner demons did their work. 

_Join … assimilate … grow … become one … infect … you are host … you are one …_

Mark’s eyes glowed that same faint green color, the mass on his partner’s chest brought forth a tentacled maw that placed itself on his sternum, pumping the same organic clot onto Mark’s chest as it grew and became part of him. It fused to his skin, linking to his mind, the secondary mass growing on his back between his shoulder blades. Mark’s eyes gradually closed, his sleeping state continued while his partner thrusted deep inside him until the two of them came to complete the infestation. Yellow tinged cum painted Mark’s chest, his partner withdrawing the tendrils from Mark’s brain and slowly pulled out. 

_We are one … we must grow … we must infect …_

Mark hummed and mumbled in his sleep, “Must grow … must infect …” 

His partner grinned in a sinister way, the parasitic beings he once called inner demons were now in them both. He laid down next to Mark, holding him close as he dozed off back to sleep, the organic clots on their chest meshing together to exchange information and build a stronger bond, the next phases of assimilating others were underway.


	22. Where Is It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 22 - whip/uniform/drugged
> 
> Characters - Illinois, original characters

He’d been tracking them for months. He needed to stop them from finding an ancient artifact that could bring about dark times should it get in the wrong hands. Illinois kept to the shadows as he followed their path, his plans to cut them off and take them out one by one from the inside seemed fool proof, they’d never see him coming. Besides - they’ve never seen his face before so it’d be easy to blend in and go unnoticed, and they had gas masks with tinted visors attached to their uniform, the perfect disguise.

Illinois stalked the last two patrolmen, crouching low behind a brush when he saw the two of them pause for a smoke and relief break. The closest one to him was in reach and looked just his size, Illy brought his whip out, swinging it around as the business end of it looped around the guy’s neck; Illinois pulled hard as he choked the guy out, the guard kicking and gasping, the whip cutting his air supply. 

“Vasily, did you trip and fall again? You know, as much as I think you’re a clutz, you might have some actual motor coordination problems,” the one patrolman relieving himself by a tree said, totally oblivious that his compadre was being choked and knocked unconscious and stripped of his clothes. “Because it seems like you’ve been doing that consistently.” 

As soon as he zipped, he turned around to find Vasily gone, his brow raised as he looked about the area. He held his gun up at chest level, stalking up to a bush, who he assumed was his fellow comrade popped out of the brush, giving him a shock. 

“Ah! Vasily! Don’t scare me like that!” he exclaimed, jumping back a bit. “You know I don’t being surprised.”

“Sorry, comrade,” Illinois replied in his best Russian accent. He was wearing the gas mask with the uniform - muscle shirt with a tactical vest, trouser and boots, a balaclava on his head to help with the guise. He didn’t know what Vasily sounded like but figured the guy was Russian. “I thought I saw something in the bush and went to look. I found this whip.” He held up his own tool and tucked it on his belt.

“Why are you sounding like that?” 

Illinois was caught off guard. “Like what?”

“Like you are some kind of Russian baddie. You’ve lived in America for so long, you lost it, you told me before. Are you mocking my accent?”

“No, no, I just …”

“Because if you ever mock me … me, Nikolai Tsarkovkin … again, I will not hesitate to break an arm. Or your neck,” Nikolai threatened. 

“Sorry, Nikki,” Illy dropped the accent. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Eh, honest mistake, I won’t fault you.” Nikolai furrowed his brows slightly. “Why does your voice sound a little deep? And why are you wearing your mask?”

God, this was going to be tough. “Tickle in my throat, might be getting a cold. Plus my eyes were starting to hurt, and I didn’t have my sunglasses on me. And the area we’re heading to has bad air, thought I’d prepare.”

“Oh, yeah, your voice has sounded like that when you’ve gotten sick, I remember,” Nikolai nodded, shrugged. “Eh, always best to be prepared. Thanks for the warning.”

He started to walk away, Illinois thinking he was out of the clear before Nik turned around again. “How do you know the area up ahead has bad air?”

Illy internally sighed. “I heard from some guy back in the last post we were in say there’s vents that release a toxic fume,” Illinois did tell the truth, he knew the valley they were heading into had natural occurring steam vents that produced bad air. 

Nik nodded again, made a face of slight surprise with raised brows. “Thanks for the warning.” At that, he turned around and continued to walk. Illy softly let out a sigh of relief, joining Nikolai and soon with the rest of the platoon as they headed into the valley. The leader of the troop, stopped at the gorge’s entrance, turning to her men. 

“Bad air up ahead, put on your gas masks,” she instructed, putting hers on. Illinois looked on from the back, making sure he had to take the right opportunity to strike. He waited until they were clear from the valley, but still kept his mask on. 

Night had fallen, an encampment was made which Illinois helped with to not make him look suspicious, later on Nikolai had approached him as he was keeping watch on an assigned post. 

“You can take that off now, we’re far from the danger.”

“I just want to be sure that I’m not breathing in any lingering fumes. The wind can carry that air well out of the valley,” Illy spoke another truth, hoping he can still keep playing this off. 

“Are you sure? The wind is blowing downwind from us, it won’t be coming this way.”

“Yes, but it could change on a dime.”

Nikolai faintly squinted his eyes, tilting his head slightly. “You’ve actually been awfully quiet this entire time, Vasily. You’re usually the talker. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. You find it strange that I’m not acting like you expect me to?” 

“Yeah, actually I do. We were discussing that one band you and I enjoy.”

Oh, boy. Now he was caught. “Uh … which one? We got a lot of bands in common, Nikki.”

Nikolai went quiet, taking a step back from Illinois, turning his head towards the group. “Intruder! We have an infiltrator!”

That was his cue to hightail it and rethink his plan. But Illy’s efforts to escape were cut short when he was confronted by ten men surrounding him. The leader of the troop came into the center of the circle, her cold eyes examining the masked intruder, approaching him and took the mask and balaclava off to reveal Illy’s guilty and caught red handed face. 

“My, my,” she purred playfully, “what a handsome rogue we have here. Tell me, super spy, who are you and why are you here?”

“I’m ‘fraid I can’t answer either of those,” Illinois played into his charming smile to try and woo her. “Top secret.”

“Mhm,” her eyes darted up and down his form. “I have a way of making you talk.” 

She snapped her fingers, a tranq dart was shot at him, Illy wincing from the sting, feeling the world tilt and swim around him as he succumbed to the sedative. By morning he cracked open his eyes, feeling his arms and legs were positioned apart from him as his body was made into an X, two poles on either side of him, his wrists and ankles tied to them by unforgiving straps that dug into his wrists. He was stripped from the waste up, starting to feel the heat from the sun and humidity, sweat glistening on his body. 

“Now then,” came the strict voice of the leader. She approached Illinois with a capped syringe in hand, a playful and evil smirk on her lips. “Where were we? During your little nap, I did some digging of my own and found out who you are - Illinois. Quite the adventurer. But you seem to know something about what I seek. Care to tell me? My intel I am using doesn’t give me much information. You seem to know a lot about it, among other treasures you’ve seeked and returned to the rightful owners. Inquiring minds would like to know.”

“I’m not saying anything,” Illinois stared her down, feeling a whip crack at his back, body flinching and face wincing. 

She gripped his face in her free hand. “For every no you give me, is another welt. We can do this all day if need be.”

“Fine by me, darlin’,” he grumbled, body and face reacting in the same manner when he was whipped again. After she let go, he glanced behind him to see Nikolai holding Illy’s own whip in his hand, hanging his head and shook it. 

“But we’re on a time crunch here so perhaps to speed things up,” she grabbed his hair and forced his head to tilt as she inserted the needle into him, Illinois grimaced as he felt the needle pierce his skin. The clear colored liquid entered his bloodstream, the explorer feeling the effects minutes later; he was groggy, babbling incoherently and drooling, pupils were dilated, Illinois fought his mind to be focused and not give in to the full effects of the drug. 

A few more welts were added to his back, Nikolai smirking the entire time he did so. Masha Bedrevsky, the leader of the troop, approached Illinois after the ten minute whipping, lifting his head with a strong hand. 

“Now, tell me, what is it we are seeking.”

Illinois fought hard to not let the drug overpower him and slip the information out, but he failed this time by blabbering out, “Ahken … Ahkenmut’s Spear …”

Masha nodded, listening more. “Is it something to be used for good? Evil?”

Illinois whined, grimacing and gritting his teeth. After a minute of silence, a flick of pain from his own whip slashed across his back. He groaned, drool and spit spilling out of him as he breathed harshly through his teeth. Another minute, another lash. He couldn’t keep it together, the drug wearing him down. Every time he resisted, the more compliant he got. 

“Those who wield the spear … must fight … the corruption it can instill …”

“You are saying it is a cursed instrument?” He lolls his head in a lazy nod. “The person must have a strong will and mind to fight the corruption, yes?” Another nod. Masha was confident in herself as she smirked and straightened herself. “One other piece of information that was very vague was the location of this spear. Tell me … where is it?”

Illinois grunted and growled, teeth gritting and fists clenching hard his nails cut into his skin; another lash from the whip, his drugged mind getting pulled deeper into compliance, incoherently babbling. Exhaustion was setting in, Illinois panted and shook, eyes fluttering closed before a harsh slap across his face brought him back. 

_“Where … is … the spear?”_ Masha snarled, gripping his face harshly. “You cannot fight this drug forever, Illinois. Be a good boy and tell me where it is. Perhaps I will give you a … reward for telling me everything I need to know.” She looked back at Nikolai when she said ‘reward’, the tall Russian giving a smirk.

He huffed and panted, groaning, eyes hazy and lost, staring off into space; he shook in his bonds, eyes slowly opening and closing as his mouth started to move but he was barely whispering. Masha knitted her brows together, leaning her ear to his mouth as she heard him tell every detail he knew about the spear, a grin curled in a corner of her lips. She pulled away once he was finished, petting and caressing Illy’s face and hair, giving him a small peck on his forehead. 

“Good boy. Wasn’t so hard now was it?” she purred. Illinois let out a soft whine, unknowing that the drug that made him compliant acted double as an aphrodisiac. The drug was moving to that phase, Illinois felt a heat rise in his groin, Masha seeing the red come to the explorer’s cheeks. She knew that the longer he resisted, the more the aphrodisiac will work with his mushy compliant mind; she nodded to Nikolai who strode forward, pulling Illy’s pants down just over his ass, spreading his cheeks to finger and prod at his hole. 

Illinois gasped and moved in his bonds, eyelids fluttering as he was fingered at a painstaking pace, a deep throaty groan escaped him. His cock twitched in his pants, tenting the material quickly, Masha chuckling at how pathetic Illinois looked - red and flushed, glistening from sweat, knees wanting to buckle, the obvious erection. Nikolai unzips and pulls his thick shaft out, spitting in one hand as he pumps himself to a decent hardness, spreading Illy’s cheeks once more and inserted himself in the bound man’s ass. 

The explorer moaned weakly, feeling his thoughts fade away as the pleasure took over and turned his mind into complete mush; as Nikolai fully sat as much as he could inside Illinois, he moved in a steady pace, grabbing Illy by his hips. Masha looked on with voyeurist delight, grabbing a chair as she watched on with a smirk; it made her heart flutter when she watched the focus and life fade from Illy’s beautiful brown eyes. Not a single thought was up in that pretty head of his and it made her beam with glee. 

The tall Russian relished how tight Illinois was, feeling the other’s ass clench and clamp around him, making Nikolai groan like a beast in heat, thrusting harder and faster. Illinois hung his head back, throaty groans and mewls escaped him, lightly panting as he was used this way. His dick throbbed in its cloth prison, pre leaking out and staining the material a little; the Russian grinned at the weak moans, picking up the pace until he was humping in a frantic speed, his vocalizing increasing in volume until he came hard in the adventurer, Illinois creaming in his pants, cum soaking his pants entirely. 

He was cut down from his bonds and was laid on a cot in a tent, Illinois succumbing to the exhaustion. Long before he was given the drug and slipped away into mindlessness, he knew a fact about the spear that he didn’t give to Masha as he was aware of the true effects of it - and when they finally came upon the finding three days later and Masha touched it, she would succumb to a terrible fate of internal bleeding moments after she laid her hands on it. Illinois told the truth of it being cursed, yes. And he intended on setting back in place that caused it to be cursed in the first place. The spear had gone missing from the statue of Ahkenmut for years, misplaced by someone greedy enough to want it; the spear was stuck in a crevice in a wall of a temple, Illinois knowing what to do as he pulled the object from the wall and brought it back to the statue. 

Once it was placed back in Ahkenmut’s open hand and rubbing the dog’s nose, Illinois was met by a vision of the long dead ruler turned god, the dog headed deity placing a hand on Illy’s head and over his heart, giving the explorer good luck, health and prosperity. As the specter faded, Illy deeply bowed to the statute and burned a small incense stick at the statue’s feet, grinning as he walked away from another successful adventure. 

_Ahkenmut’s Spear - Ahkenmut was a mortal who was gifted by the gods a spear that made him a great warrior and leader, who brought prosperity to his people as a pharaoh. Upon his death, he ascended into godhood, his form changed to that of a wild dog headed deity. Statues were made in his honor, everyone who passed by his alcove rubbed his nose for good luck, that luck being bestowed upon the person. Ahkenmut’s spear was placed on his statue, and stayed there for centuries until a robber had intended on stealing it but was met by a pack of wild dogs. As a last ditch effort, the robber lodged the spear into a wall crevice, and there it remained, a curse placed on it. Whoever so touched it for their own greedy gains would be met with a terrible fate. Those who knew and respected the gods and knew the right words to speak, with a good heart, soul, and mind, with intent on returning the spear, would not be affected._

_Of those who respected the gods and their customs, the good willed would speak, “Great Deities of the earth, water, sky, and the dead and the living, those who created the world, I humbly come on bended knee with a good heart. With my hands I will right the wrong and fulfill my task to bring back what was lost to all peoples.”_


	23. The Hood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 23 - Doctor/latex, pup play/sleep deprivation
> 
> Characters - Dr. Iplier, Mark

It was a clinical study. That’s all it started off as. Dr. Iplier was conducting a study about the effects of sleep deprivation and how it affects a patient’s mind. Mark seemed like a sucker for signing up for it. He had his regrets a week into this - he hadn’t been able to sleep much due to the scheduled interruptions; but it paid good, so, what could possibly go wrong? This was for science. 

Halfway into the month long study, however, things started to seem … off kilter. That is, to the more conscious and awake and aware sane person. For Mark, who hadn’t slept for five days straight during one week, it was hard for him to tell dreams from reality. Dr. Iplier had come in during a scheduled interruption to check on his study patient, doing the usual breathing and heartbeat listening, blood pressure, a usual and normal check up. He saw the bags in Mark’s eyes, how bloodshot his brown eyes were, the man’s long fluffy mane hung at his shoulders more wild than it was a couple weeks ago. 

Dr. Iplier’s eyes subtly twinkled once he pulled back from checking Mark’s lungs. “How you doing, boy? You good?”

“Hm?” Mark was zoned out during the checkup, lazily nodding his head. 

“You’re doing great, buddy. Proud of you. Just a couple more weeks, then we’ll see how you’re faring. Okay?” Another lazy nod, Iplier saw that Mark wasn’t really paying attention to his words. Lack of alertness. “Good boy.”

A corner of Mark’s mouth curled up just the slightest for Dr. Iplier to see. Start subtle. Always a good place to start. Mark’s eyes drooped, closing briefly before they snapped awake. 

“No, no, buddy get a little shut eye, you’ll be fine,” Iplier instructed, Mark lazily nodded, laying down and closed his eyes. The doctor came forward, petting his patient’s head. “Good boy … good boy, bud.” Mark nuzzled his head into the petting, giving a small groan. His tired and oblivious mind finding the sudden affection warming, the faint grin that was in one corner of his mouth spread across his face. 

“Aw, look at you,” Dr. Iplier cooed, his petting continuing. “So cute, such a cute pup.” 

Mark whined a little, leaning into the petting, not thinking any further of the names Iplier called him - ‘pup’, ‘good boy’, ‘good dog’. It spoke to him on a primal level. Truth be told he really was a dog in human form most of the time, so it fit him one way or another. His sleep deprived mind could care less in all honesty. He savored this moment, and even after Dr. Iplier had left, a floating feeling lingered in Mark’s mind; when he was disturbed again just two hours later, he was still in that floaty headspace, softly grinning at the doctor as he came in. 

He sat up, sitting patiently and waited. Dr. Iplier had something behind his back, he saw anticipation crawl up into Mark’s tired eyes - finally revealing a latex pup hood. The shiny material was black on the main head, the ears had a hot pink outline, the muzzles sans the black nose was also the same shade of pink, small eyebrows of pink as well, some detailed outlining.

“Come here, boy,” Dr. Iplier instructed, pointing down at his foot. Mark wanted to stand but his body at this point felt that crawling over on his hands and knees was better, and he did just so, sitting patiently once he sat at the doctor’s feet. Iplier warmly grinned, slipping the latex hood over Mark’s head, petting the smooth surface; despite his exhausted appearance, Mark’s eyes twinkled. “Good boy. You look so cute in that hood.” 

Mark started to pant lightly, leaning into the pets. Iplier had brought out a small squeaky toy in the shape of a bone out of a pocket, bringing it to the pup’s mouth. Mark sniffed at it before taking it with his teeth, finding the squeaker and bit down on it several times; Iplier chuckled at how cute Mark was being, the human trotted to a different spot and laid down, chewing and biting on the toy, drooling dribbling out and onto the floor. 

“Such a cute dumb puppy,” Dr. Iplier came over, petting and rubbing the smooth shiny surface of the latex hood. Another week later of this “study”, Iplier brought a full latex bodysuit for Mark to wear. He was also given fist mitts and knee pads with buckles connected to it to bind his legs, a hot pink tail plug, harness and collar the finishing touches to the ensemble. 

Another week passed, Mark was adjusting well to being the doctor’s pup. Iplier had ended the sleep deprivation study as it got what he needed out of it - seeing what he would find underneath the surface of Mark’s mind and exploit that to their benefits, and it seemed to be working just fine. Mark didn’t mind playtime, it gave him a chance to shut his human brain off now and then when he needed to. All Iplier had to do was slip the hood on and get Mark kitted up and into the required headspace. 

Iplier was in his office looking through a patient’s files when he felt a mitted paw try to get his attention, he looked down to see Mark with a chew toy in his mouth, eyes wide and begging for attention. The doctor grinned taking the chew toy and threw it to the other side of the office, the latex pup bounding after it. Once Mark came back with it, Dr. Iplier went to grab it only for the pup to give a playful growl, giving him the side eye; the hand reached again, the pup drew back a bit with another growl. 

“Silly pup, give it over,” Iplier chuckled, the pup obeying and dropped the toy in Iplier’s waiting hand. “Good boy.” He patted Mark on the head and threw it again. 

As he watched his rubber pup play with the toy, his mind brought forth a new thought - what else can he find underneath the surface in another sleep deprivation study.


	24. Shh, No Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 24 - asphyxiation/mating press/forced mutism
> 
> Characters - Reader, Heehoo

You had been planning this camping trip for a couple months, you were excited to get out in the wilderness and be away from the city for a few days. Once you had gotten closer to your destination you couldn't help but notice strange signs - mostly warning of a being built similar to Bigfoot, calling it 'Heehoo'. 

You shrugged it off, amusing the person at the park/camp info office with the question, "So, what's up with this 'Heehoo' I keep seeing on the signs? Is he a local cryptid like Bigfoot?"

The person at the desk looked up from the paperwork, dumbfounded at that statement, almost … scared when you mentioned that name. "You … You never heard of him?" Shaking your head, they lean forward, gesturing you to do the same. In a low voice they mutter, "He's not something to take lightly. He's very real and can be very dangerous. Our groundskeeper, Paul, had a run-in with him a couple weeks ago. Nearly lost an eye. He saw Heehoo wandering too close to the campsites and tried to scare him off but got into a bad fight, nearly got killed."

You gulped hard, wondering what kind of being Heehoo was to be that powerful. The clerk continued, "And it's especially dangerous this time of year, it has to do with the moon phases or something, but once a year about this time Heehoo is more dangerous than a bear so … if you find yourself walking to the bathrooms at night, bring a light with you." They leaned away, filling out the camping permit and handed it to you. "And be safe in the area you're staying in. The border of his territory is right next to it."

You nodded, taking the permit and proceeded to get to your campsite, there was enough time in the day to set up your tent and make a fire, cooking supper and made a couple s'mores for yourself. From your point of view you can see the wilderness - deep hills, rocks protruding from the ground, against the sunset sky you can see a figure perched up on a high boulder. It was in a crouch position until it stood up - you saw it was mostly upright but perhaps had a slight slouch to it. It let out a few deep barks before a human sounding howl rang through the canyon before you. It nearly sent a shiver down your spine hearing it. 

Turning in for the night, you let the sounds of nature lull you to sleep. You weren't sure how long time had passed before you heard a rustling outside your tent, groggily looking around your breath quickens and heart picks up. Slowly opening the tent door, you shined your light out before you, scanning right to left to right again; just before you crawled back in, you felt powerful hands grab your sweater and drag you out of your tent and a foot away from it. You almost let out a scream, a hand clamping around your throat and another over your mouth.

Grabbing your flashlight you shined it on the intruder - coming face to face with a scraggily looking human; dirt covering his face in streaks, hair wild and long to his shoulders, fluffy in appearance. A beard that looked patchy but thick on his face, brown eyes that were feral stares you down. He growls softly, leaning down to your ear, his hot breath on your ear making you squirm.

"Shhhh … no make noise. No speak. You no talk," came a gruff command, you being forced to stay mute as he drags you away from your site. 

You were being taken farther and farther away and into a cave fit for two people. Animal skins strewed one corner of the cave, a fire pit was still crackling, you saw the primitive set up Heehoo had, being taken over to the bedding area and laid down on your back. You tried to get up but was met by the wildman crawling over like a gorilla and loomed over you. 

"You no move. Stay. Shh. No talk." Too scared to do so anyway, you remained mute. Heehoo was fairly muscular and buff, he seemed to have a thin layer of velvety hair covering some of his body, hairier knuckles and feet; you flinch as he pulls your pajama bottoms off and removed them completely. His nose is right at your hole, sniffing it and giving the entrance a few licks, you moan and squirm from the stimulation as he eats you out. 

Heehoo grunts at you, growling; you're forced back to muteness, biting your lip to not let moans out from his tongue and mouth eating you out, the pleasure starting to build. The bushman groans and grunts in approval of your response and readiness, moving his loincloth out of the way to show his thick cock was throbbing and hardening. With no fanfare and ceremony, he brings your knees to your chest, pressing down on your thighs as he sinks his dick inside your aching hole, you fight back a big moan of pleasure. 

He's laying into you in a hunkered crouch, your feet and calves over his shoulders from him pressing down on your thighs, Heehoo began to thrust in a breeding pace - heavy, hard, and rough. You could hardly hold any vocalizing back, a mewl escaping you. Heehoo snarled, clamping a hand around your throat, being asphyxiated by the bushman's grip as he mated deep inside you. 

He growled and groaned, hips slamming into you in a harsh and frantic pace. "You mate. Mate mine. Me breed you, mate you," he panted in heaving breaths. 

You panted, body going limp underneath him, allowing yourself to be taken by this wild man. Your air supply was lacking but you didn't care, you were too high on bliss to complain; Heehoo came hard inside you, growling against your ear, tightening his grip slowly around your neck as you shortly came after. The grip loosened, the bushman softly grunting as he kept his cock inside you, sniffing around your neck and rubbed his face against yours as if scent marking you. When he pulled out his nose and mouth was back at your hole, sniffing that as well, licking your used hole; you did your best to stifle a cry at his tongue lapping at the entrance, only whining from the stimulation. 

Heehoo huffed and grunted happily, caressing and kissing your body. It felt strange to you that having hot sex with a wildman was one of the best things to have happened to you, but as the bushman was loving up on you, you opened your legs wider for him, panting and shaking for more. Heehoo growled, his dick stiffened again as he mated you over and over throughout the night. When the two of you finally were worn out, Heehoo held you close to him as you slept, full of his seed; as morning came, you were greeted with soft kisses and coos from Heehoo. He looked a little sad to see you leave but you knew you'd be back in a couple weeks now that you knew where he was, roughnecking it closer to his cave in the wilderness. 

And boy was he always happy to see you.


	25. Reach Out and Touch Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 25 - "God"/frottage/ringing in ears, disorientation, blurred vision
> 
> Characters - male reader/character, Darkiplier (religion kink)

You drove to a part of the backwoods you found yourself in, chartering into unknown territory was your specialty, finding any abandoned homes or buildings to go through and snap pictures. The area you found yourself in led you down a single road in the woods, up ahead you saw the crumbling remains of a building. 

Upon closer inspection it was a church, the double doorframe had a singular door hanging off its hinges, leaves littered the steps, creeper vines and weeds covered the outside. Hearing the boards creak heavily under you, you made into the rundown chapel; taking the first photo of the day, you stepped in more, taking in the decrepit ruins of the altar, the painting of Jesus in the back, the pulpit still intact but the stairs broken. The boards moaned underneath you, being careful as you thought they would break. 

Once you got up into the riser and the alter itself, you didn't see a hole in the floor - it was too late as you stepped through it but also your weight cracked the boards and down you went, hitting your head hard on the impact. Heavily disoriented, there was a ringing in your ears, you cracked your eyes open, you couldn't make out anything despite the light shining through some spots and the hole you just fell through. 

_"Are you lost, little lamb?"_ came a soft rumble. You tried to sit up but the world swam around you, the disorientation not going away, vision blurred but you started to see a shape appear in front of you. _"Do not get up, mortal. Give it time."_

"Who … Who are you?" 

_"You know who I am,"_ the shadowed figure spoke in a calm tone, like a soft purring in your ears over the ringing tone that pierced them. _"I am one in the same, three separate entities in one form."_

You couldn't believe it - was this God? The soft rumble chuckled. You felt a cold hand on your cheek, a thumb brushing against it. 

_"I see you do not believe in Me. Even now, here before you. Such a strong belief that I do not exist. And yet here I am."_

"I … have a complicated … past and present with faith …"

 _"It's quite alright,"_ the voice speaks your name, _"every lamb in my flock abandons their shepherd … but they always find a way back."_

You felt a cold kiss on your forehead, shivering from the touch. Despite the blurry vision, you could make out a face - you could've sworn it nearly looked like Jesus with the beard and longish hair but … its face was pale, gray. Its eyes dark, slightly gaunt in the cheeks, a face that could show compassion and hatred at the same time. A twin color aura of blue and red surrounded him, you weren't sure if it was the hazy vision but his image seem to twitch and glitch.

"Are you … really God?"

_"Yes, little one, I am. Have faith in me, lost lamb. Do not fear, for thy shepherd has called you back. Thy shepherd shall protect you and comfort you. Renounce your disbelief and have faith in your God once again."_

You felt pent up emotions flood forth, causing you to softly sob. "I've … I've struggled for so long …" This was true. You had questions but also had inklings, being able to sense things, be they from ghosts or some form of higher power. You wanted to believe there was something out there, but every time you prayed there was nothing there.

 _"You don't have to struggle any longer,"_ you felt being pulled into an embrace, a kiss on your forehead, your face buried into a shoulder. _"I am thy comfort, thy rock. Your tears I will dry, your pain I will soothe. I am the Lord your God, now and forever. You will know love and peace through me. Now, come, my son, my child, come worship and retake your vow as a sign of your devotion."_

Through your disorientation and blurred vision you felt a heat rise in your groin, you softly whined. You were presented something that you took in your mouth, licking and sucking on it with fervor. The ringing in your ears didn't go away, hazy vision swimming as you partook in the worship. This "God" before you looked down with a warm grin and soft eyes, guiding you along His shaft. 

_"That's it. You show your love and obedience to your God this way. Feel it surge through you."_ You closed your eyes, relishing this moment. They pulled out, sitting on the ground with you, taking his length and yours in the same hand, stroking the two of you. Dark brought your lips to His, gently kissing you; you let out a soft moan from the frotting, His cold touch on your cock making you shiver. You saw a grin on god's lips, those lips kissing you on the forehead again. 

The stroking of his length and yours picked up, you can rocked your hips into his grip, now feeling something take its place, something slithery and long and wrapped around both Dark's and yours shafts. That same writhing sensation poked and prodded at your ass, the appendage had slithered into your pants and teased your hole. You shivered and huffed, dazed mind swimming and sinking into bliss, heavenly bliss. 

"God …," you panted, Dark grinning and chuckled. 

_"You are doing well, little one. There is no shame, there is no fear. There is only Me."_

"Only you …"

_"Yes, my son. I am your shelter and shade, your salvation. Embrace me, let me in. Open your heart to me."_

"Please God …," you lightly whimpered, feeling the bliss grow stronger as the frotting continued, the stroking picking up, "I will love and obey you … I will follow you and worship you … I am … your devoted disciple …"

_"You will be born again, welcomed back into my flock. Know peace once again."_

"Please show me the way, God … I was so lost …"

 _"And now you are found, little lamb. I hath found you."_ You were pulled in for an embrace, you moaned as the teasing and strokes became frantic, crying out. _"Will you let me in? Will you open thy heart to your Lord?"_

"I do, I do," you panted. "I open my heart and surrender myself to your love and mercy and your safety. Hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom, thy will be done … forgive me, God, deliver me … please, please, please … for thine is the kingdom, and the power and the glory … forever … and ever …"

You came hard against yourself, hearing Dark groan as he came, you shivered and shook, feeling a strange power surge through you, tethering you to Him. Your disorientated state brought you to a place of bliss and submission, you were pulled away from Him as your blurry vision saw a compassionate stare from God, a warm smile that made you smile back in the same manner. 

Dark played you well, you were oblivious to the fact that this "god" wasn't all he seemed. The twin aura being's eyes hid his deceit well from you, as he finished your prayer, _"Amen."_


	26. Shining Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 26 - aphotic/hypnosis/concussion
> 
> Characters - Mark, male character 
> 
> (added tw for bone exposure)

“It is October 26th. This is Mark Fischbach aboard my humble vessel Bumblebutt. I am finally going down … into the depths … to research the aphotic zone of this great ocean of ours, thanks to the grant money provided from the university. There is at least one creature that I’ve only heard rumors of, but if I find it, well, finders keepers.”

He stopped the recording stretching out at his desk on his sub. Another pair of footsteps came into the main cabin, Mark seeing his first mate take a seat. 

“Heard you hesitated there,” Carter crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “Nervous?”

“You don’t hear of many marine biologists being afraid of the ocean,” Mark explained. “I chose this career to get over my … irrational fear. Hopefully things go well.”

“You have me on standby to come get you,” Carter pulled himself from the wall he leaned against, sitting in his assigned chair. “Dock is ready for you, so whenever you’re ready.”

Mark nodded, getting himself suited up and tanked, his nerves were getting a hold of him but he did his best to shake them off as he plunged into the dark water and went further below in the depths, the night vision kicking in. He swam a few more feet, hearing and feeling his heart pound in his chest, Mark paced his breathing; as he looked around he noticed familiar bioluminescent creatures, he focused on those to calm himself before diving further down. 

He felt something swim by him, Mark paused his trek, looking around to see if he could pinpoint what it was; when he turned around he saw two small lights ahead of him that were blinking at a rapid pace. Curious as to what it was, he was drawn closer, his mind focusing on those lights … those shining … lights … 

Something in the pitch dark bumped against him, jostling him out of the trance-like state he was in, Mark shaking his head side to side in order to focus but he saw that the lights had vanished. Strange … it was then in his peripheral vision he saw those lights but they seemed way far down below him. Again his mind was being pulled towards them, not entirely aware his body moved closer to the blinking lights. Closer … closer … that’s it … keep coming …

Those lights flashed in a bright and rapid pace that even Mark’s own eyes were glowing that same dim yellow hue. Once he got closer the lights came right at him, something hitting him like a freight train right on the noggin. The marine biologist fought to stay awake, but felt a pair of arms wrap around him and pull him farther down. His eyelids were heavy, his field of vision and sense of direction greatly disoriented, eventually succumbing to the darkness. 

He felt rock underneath him. Mark groaned and grumbled as he lifted his upper half with one arm, trying to gather his surroundings. He was in a cave, which baffled him - an underwater cave with room for air where everything is void of light? They weren’t entirely uncommon, but it surprised the marine biologist to find one so far down in the aphotic zone of the ocean. As he slowly sat up, being careful with what he assumed was a concussion, Mark took in the rest of his surroundings. The cavern faintly glowed with some bioluminescent diversity, the chamber itself only having one way in and out - the pool of water that was staring right at him in the near pitch darkness. It dimly glowed green, the water’s surface now rippling as something emerged. 

It was both some kind of evolutionary abomination and nightmare. It’s lower half was reptilian, snake-like but had small dorsal fins and a secondary set of legs, the upper half was humanoid; its face was gaunt, eyes having no discernible pupil or iris, just a milky grey void staring out. Gills were present on its neck, some form of hair was on top of its head, two lights on antennae like an angler fish present on its forehead; it’s color overall was ashen grey and near translucent or opaque. The lower half of its face were tentacles and a singular lamprey like mouth underneath the small mass of writhing appendages. 

Mark looked at the creature with awe and disgust - he’d never seen such a creature before, but his slowed memory jogged back and remembered this was the creature he had heard rumors about. The dark ocean water snake. He wasn’t expecting the snake to be half humanoid and whatever branch of the evolutionary tree it fell off of. The creature hissed and chirped, shrieking a little; Mark knew it couldn’t speak but he could sense from the creature what it wanted. 

“Please … whatever it is you want … I don’t know if you can understand me, but, I need to get back. I need you to bring me back …” Just then his radio crackled to life. 

_“Mark? Mark, do you copy?”_

“I copy, yeah, I’m here. I’m a cave maybe … maybe another two hundred feet below maybe more.”

_“Jesus, I thought I lost you. Are you hurt?”_

“Ah, bumps and bruises on my head. I think I got a concussion, a mild one.”

_“Then I’ll have to come get you.”_

“You might have to …” Mark tried to finish but the room went dark, the bright shining lights were blinking rapidly in his vision. His eyes wandered to it, feeling his mind being pulled down into a deep trance; his face spaced out, eyes blank. Carter radioed Mark again as he didn’t catch that last part. Mark brought the radio to his lips, getting a strong tingle in his mind. “Don’t … bother … getting me … I’ll … be fine …” 

_“What do you mean? Are you going to try and come back on your own?”_

Yes … yes he was …

“Yes … I am …”

 _“Well, I’ll keep an eye out for you. But if you’re not back within the next hour I’m gonna look for a cave opening.”_

Mark dropped the radio, like the creature told him to. It beckoned him closer, Mark being controlled by the hypnotizing lights as he shuffled forward and was dropped to his knees. The creature purred and chirped, taking the neoprene hood off and felt around on his head. Mark had forgotten a fact when he first came face to face with the water snake - it consumed its victims by breaking down any organic material and left the bones behind. It produced an acid that would first burn away and digest skin, its lamprey-like mouth then busting any bone to get at the brain first. After that it was free to consume any part of the prey, not caring if the flesh was rotting. 

It cupped his head in its hands, its lights blinking and hypnotizing Mark further. It wants him to give himself up at its food, it wants him to let go and be consumed - these thoughts he sensed deep in his melting mind, Mark’s body going slack. It purred deeply, brushing back hair and decided to choose a spot at his left temple, tentacles starting the breaking down process as the acid burned away at his skin. He didn’t scream as his skin was broken down, exposing a part of his skull; a dumb grin spread across his slackened face - he was happy giving himself over, it told him. It brought him such joy to be its food, such pleasure. 

His skull was almost cracked open until Carter had come through the pool and shot a flare at the creature, breaking the hold the water snake had on Mark’s mind. Mark was groggy, feeling a stinging pain on his head as he started to scream in pain. Carter approached the creature, taking a harpoon stake and rammed it through the monster’s chest, killing it; he went to examine Mark’s wound, seeing the severity of it, not to mention a part of his skull exposed, Carter did what he could to patch it up with what first aid supplies there were tucked on either of their persons, slipping the neoprene hood back on and carried Mark out of there and back into the vessel. Mark had fallen unconscious halfway to there, waking up in the medical bay. 

He mumbled incoherently at first, getting Carter’s attention who sat right beside him. “What … happened …,” he managed to get out.

“I thought you were a goner. You didn’t sound like yourself during the last half of our conversation. I knew something was up so I came anyway. Luckily I did because that creature looked like it was going to crack your skull open and eat your brain.”

The creature … Mark vaguely remembered seeing a half humanoid half snake form, but after that it was a blur, but feeling the stinging in his left temple he took Carter’s word for it. He knew he’d have a scar there now for the rest of his life, Mark pulled the covers up to his chin as he just wanted to sleep and never return to the ocean.

“Maybe being a marine biologist was a bad choice.”


	27. Grow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 27 - plant gore/tattoos/earthquake
> 
> Characters - Mark

Mark had a specialty for making plants bloom and keeping them healthy, it felt like a second nature to him. He had the tattoos to prove it, too - a rose on both sides of his neck, some of his favorite flowers down his arms, for example. His affinity for plants in general got him the moniker ‘Plant Dad’ by friends and the community he had a plant and floral shop in. He had a small grove of trees, mostly some of his favorites there as well (if they could grow in the warm California weather), but there was one tree that he read about that intrigued him. 

Tree of Souls. Once thought believed to have supernatural abilities, it was mostly harvested for its medicinal purposes to near extinction. There were hardly any of these trees left, and it was such a beautiful specimen, too. But when they disappeared it made Mark frustrated that this once remarkable tree had been snuffed from overharvesting. He found the location where it once grew, making a trip out to the desert to find where the last tree once stood. 

Trekking up a mountainside, he found a natural pit once he climbed over a ridge. He saw the divot where the tree used to be. Mark deeply sighed through his nose, feeling empathy for it; thousands of years it resided in this spot, as did others across the entire California and Arizona desert, now wiped out. He climbed down into the pit, approaching the circular rut with as much humility as he had. 

“Wish you still existed. Heard you had lovely branches. And the flowers that bloomed year round … must’ve been a sight to behold,” he muttered to the divot. He could still see dead roots poking out from the ground, reaching a hand out to feel them. A cold chill ran down his spine upon contact, he hitched a small gasp as he felt along the earth; he could feel his entire being vibrate, almost sensing a very weak pulse from the extinct tree. Mark brought his canteen out, leaving a small offering of water in honor of the Tree of Souls. 

When he started to leave he felt the ground tremble beneath him, losing his footing and cracked his head open on a rock, blood oozing out and onto the earth by a gray root … which had started to turn tan in color … 

The brief earthquake brought forth a schism, a small trunk growing from the center of the round rut, spiraling up a foot until it stopped. The tan bark twisting and curling as the small trunk was formed. Mark grumbled as he came back to consciousness, wiping the cut he had gotten and gazed at the miracle happening before him; part of him wanted to take the sapling then and there, but thought it was best to leave it where it was. He was shocked at this discovery, smiling wide; Mark took it upon himself to come tend to the young sapling every week, watching it grow to chest height over a span of five months. 

When he came back again to water and care for it, he saw the first buddings of the flower on a couple branches. He knew the flowers were edible, unsure whether to try one for himself; a tingling in the back of his mind told him that it was safe to eat them, more would grow. Mark picked the white flower with pink hues on the edges, breathing in the aroma of sweetgrass, cedar, and jasmine; the taste was an acquired one, sweet but sour flavor, Mark flicked his tongue out a little to get used to it, but ultimately gulped down some water to help with it. Eating the flowers raw had as much medicinal help as making a cup of tea out of it, he felt invigorated a few minutes later, light on his feet and overall happy. A positive mood booster, he gathered, for serotonin and dopamine. 

As the tree grew more and more flowers were starting to bloom, Mark began to noticing his tattoos had changed - what looked like roots branched from one flower to the next, not to mention he felt itchy in some spots which made him think maybe he was allergic to the tree’s flowers but something told him that wasn’t it. He also noticed the brown hues of his eyes had a tint of gold in them at first, just after a week of eating the flower for the first time, but now after two more months they were nearly entirely gold. He had been consuming the flower now and then, but hadn’t really paid much attention to doing that. 

Once he had time off to himself he decided to camp in the pit where the tree was growing, save him some time and gas money if anything. He had gotten to the site, tying his hair up in a ponytail and got to work setting up his tent and a campfire; as night fell, he heard something crack as he sat in front of the fire, turning around to survey his surroundings. Mark turned back to the fire, gazing up at the stars, suddenly feeling what felt like stab wounds in his lower back that crawled up to his shoulder blades. He harshly gasped, thinking that his back was giving out but feeling his shirt become wet, Mark turned around, seeing in the light of the fire and the flashlight on his phone that branches and roots had pierced his skin and burrowed into him, seeing them lead to the tree itself. 

Mark gingerly removed his shirt, feeling where his back was pierced, finding his fingers bloodied as he brought them back front. He stood up, seeing he still had mobility and slack as he turned around to face the medium sized tree. 

“What … why are you doing this? For what purpose?” he asked it, knowing he won’t get an answer. “I … I’ve done nothing but show you kindness and care for you … what are you playing at here?”

The tree answered back, a branch extending a round berry that looked like a huckleberry but golden in color; Mark knew that the tree had some kind of supernatural element to it, but he never expected it to come alive like this. Giving the tree an odd glance, he took the berry and briefly examined it - he didn’t remember reading that it bore this fruit, only knowing about the flowers. His gold eyes gazed up at the tree, brows faintly furrowed, a tingle in the back of his mind telling him once every hundred years it bore a special kind of berry, one that gives an extended vitality to whoever consumed it. Mark slowly nodded, remembering now that he did see something about it in folklore of the local Native nations. 

Consuming it, the properties of the berry didn’t take long to work itself into his system. It was like the air was sucked out him briefly before being given back in, Mark felt the roots burrow deeper and spread, even the root looking tattoos on his arms became to raise his skin until some poked through it and continued to snake around. He grimaced and groaned, the same flowers grew from the exposed roots and branches on his arms. There was a gradual mental shift happening while the roots started to pierce vital organs, namely his lungs and heart and liver; his mind opened wide, feeling a connection between him and tree forming. Once his lungs and heart were pierced, he could feel the tree breathe with him, hear it beat its own heart with his; Mark looked up at the tree with wondrous astonishment, never feeling so close and connected to the plant like this. 

“I’ve … I’ve never felt more alive -,” his voice was cut off as the roots took over his throat and vocal chords, piercing through his neck and sprouted a few flowers. 

That tingle in the back of his mind became stronger than ever, calling to him, there was a space in the now large trunk that was just his size if he sat inside it. Mark was still in control of his body, but as he walked closer, the branches and roots coiled and pierced his legs. His mind, tripped out on the berry, heard the tree speak to him, beckoning him to join it. It wanted to thank him for bringing it back to life, to be reborn, it wanted to return the favor, granting him an everlasting life to provide the ultimate nourishment that will keep him and the tree lasting for years to come. 

_I understand now,_ Mark thought to himself. _I understand your name … the Soul Tree … it only seems fair, we come from the earth, and we return to the earth, providing life to nature once we’re laid to rest … everlasting and eternal symbiosis._

He softly smiled, feeling the roots pierce his spinal cord and crawl up his spine, the blood he started to cough up was absorbed into the ground and bark the tree stood, his body collapsed just at the cusp of the nook. As more of the roots took hold of his body, the tree lifted him up, carrying him inside, putting him in a upright position sitting cross legged in the trunk; as the roots pierced his skull and took hold of his cerebellum and further branched into his brain, Mark felt ultimate peace and euphoria. 

His body went slack briefly, shutting down entirely before new life was breathed into him from the Soul Tree; a clump of roots in a cord rope structure pierced his navel, Mark coughed up more blood, bliss came upon his face the more he was connected to the tree, the nook’s entry partially closed up, large slits allowed for sunlight to come through and bathe him. He gently clasped his hands around the umbilical looking cord as his navel, happily grinning. He was finally one with the tree, feeling a new life course through him, acting as a symbiotic host. Flowers grew around from his head like a crown, braiding through his long mane as they flowed down in vines, his gold eyes clouded over to the same hue. Mark could no longer see but could sense the environment around him, only being able to hear and smell. 

As he fed it, the tree in return fed him. Apart from the oxygen they shared together, it fed Mark a sweet tasting sap that had also been collected for medicinal purposes; a thick vine descended from the ceiling of the nook, latching onto Mark’s open mouth, the host suckling on the large appendage, his lips and the vine fusing together. The nook started to grow more around the human, fusing his skin to the wooden interior; Mark sighed in utter contentment, having achieved the ultimate bliss. 

There the tree sat for another hundred years, garnering a small following of people looking to renew more Soul Trees. They could see a human figure sitting inside it, astounded that the man was still alive despite being a part of the tree, even more astonished that the supernatural aspect of the tree made it able to speak telepathically to whoever approached it. As Mark was still very much alive even after two hundred years, he and the tree spoke as one, telling the tree’s origins to those listening; soon he was being revered as a god, him and the tree were worshipped together as one entity for another hundred years, then another … and another. 

The eternal coexistence and symbiosis between the human and the tree is said to last for millenia, even after man’s near extinction. The tree and its human host saw nature take its course, but it wasn’t alone as other Soul Trees popped up, and other willing humans became just like Mark, in an endless cycle of symbiotic bliss. Mark felt the connections become stronger, feeling bonded to every host out there with just one singular goal in mind - 

Grow.


	28. Dr. Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 28 - self-surgery/gloryhole
> 
> Characters - Dr. Iplier

Iplier noticed a patient of his had dentures, a full set, the reason why they had such a thing made him curious. But to his mad doctor brain - it seemed like something that sounded like fun. Getting his own set of dentures being made, custom made to look exactly like his current set, he waited for them to be completed and in the meantime studied how to surgically remove all his teeth himself. Thankfully he had a dental surgeon friend guiding him through the process, and when the time came that his teeth were finished - he set to work. 

It wasn’t too painful, sure there was plenty of blood being sucked up as he removed all his teeth himself, but the aspect of it not being painful was the amount of novocaine and other painkillers he had given himself. An incisor here, a molar there, soon more followed as he was gradually becoming toothless by his own doing as he surgically removed them all. 

It took a month or so for his mouth to fully heal after the self surgery, once he was able to put his dentures in with no problems it was time for a test run. Iplier sought out an adult store that offered a peepshow or gloryholes in the back room for a small fee; the person at the counter gave him the short odd glance before shrugging their shoulders and didn’t think anything of it any further.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” they mumbled, giving Dr. Iplier a key. “What do you want your stage name to be? If you don’t have one, we can always give you anonymity, which is the beauty of gloryholes, but the moniker is optional.”

“Call me Dr. Teeth,” Iplier smirked, the person at the counter chuckled with him at the joke. Being given a key to a small room with a hole in it, Iplier prepared himself, getting comfortable by stripping his shirt and knelt on the comfortable padding they provided their oral givers. 

Iplier removed his dentures and set them aside in a glass of water, his own groin twitching and getting excited to suck with no teeth. He waited patiently, wondering how busy this place was on a weekend; it wasn’t until fifteen minutes later that he heard the door on the other side open and close. Iplier’s growing bulge twitched as he saw a meaty cock come through the hole.

“Another toothless bitch, huh? Seems like they keep popping up every week,” a gruff voice said. “You better be as good as the others, and better be as good as they say a gummy blowjob is.”  
Iplier got to work as he sloppily licked along the cock, drool and saliva flowing mere moments later. It took him a small bit to time to get a good rhythm going and to get used to the odd feeling but once he settled in, he was sucking like a pro; he mewled and slurped with gusto, the customer on the other side groaned in lust, humping furiously against the wall with Iplier staying still and letting the stranger fuck his mouth. 

“Damn! This just as good as fucking a pussy!” they exclaimed. “Work that cock, bitch!”

Iplier moaned, sucking with as much force, drool dripping down his lips and chin, rubbing himself through his pants as he got off on this; subsequent customers after his first one couldn’t see it, the but the doctor was thoroughly enjoying himself, cumming multiple times his first night. Garnering a decent amount of tips, Iplier found a new hobby to enjoy. 

It certainly paid to be a toothless gloryhole sucker.


	29. A Relic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 29 - ephemera/hate fucking
> 
> Characters - Actor Mark, Darkiplier (moreso Damien, but still Dark)

Actor had found himself back in his old manor, feeling a nostalgia wave over him, a corner of his lips turned up as he gazed about the ruins, how time had taken its toll on the once luxurious home of the movie and stage actor. The parties, jazz music blaring, the booze, the beautiful people - he could still smell the cigar smoke wafting in the air … and the gunpowder … and the blood … 

His light happy grin slowly fell away as he remembered that final night. He watched with a meticulous eye as fingers were being pointed and shouting could be heard, waiting for the right moment to strike every one of them down and walk out in a body, leaving his tattered and broken form behind. Mark took a deep breath in, letting that moment slip by and focused back on how decayed his manor once became, and how thriving he was now. He could last forever, eternity. No bell tolls for him now. Never will. 

He felt a chill run down his spine, the actor recognizing the presence that made itself known. Mark smirked as he gradually turned around. “My, my. Damien. Celine. Good to see you,” he purred. 

_“Why are you here?”_ Dark asked the actor, glowering at him. _“After all this time.”_

“Thought I’d stop by and see the state this place is in … looks like it won’t last long. Just another piece in the ephemeral collection from my days. Good times they were.” 

_“You plotted to kill us all and you walk scott free.”_

“Well, it kinda worked, didn’t it?” he smirked. 

Dark glared at him. _**“You walked out of here in MY body. You left me and Celine no choice but to take the body of my favorite person because YOU took my body!”**_

“Oh, I’ve been having a blast since I got out. I’m ageless now. Nothing can stop me,” Mark clasped his hands behind his back. 

Dark looked at the cracked hallway mirror, knowing the person trapped inside had been in limbo for years, watching the world pass them by, watching the house decay. The actor glanced at the mirror, a smirk on his face. 

“It’s a shame what happened to them. Couldn’t find the body anywhere, or so I heard.”

Dark saw the smirk on the actor’s lips, the entity snarled, jerking his head to the side that sent Mark flying to the nearest wall. The actor was pinned against it by Dark’s power, grinning and chuckling as he felt the cold touch wrap around his neck. 

“Let it go, Damien,” he tsked Dark. “What’s done is done, no other choice but to move on from it.” 

_**“You talk of being eternal, that everything around you will be nothing but dust and ruins. Nothing lasts forever, that much is true. But don’t forget that you, too, will be forgotten and decay. Just like this mansion,”**_ Dark’s voice sounded androgynous - male and female. The actor heard Celine’s voice mixed with Damien’s, letting his facade falter before putting the mask back on. 

“Dark … is that what you call yourselves now? I know Celine is in there, I can hear her. But she’s so weak, and what bravery she had, keeping you oblivious to what was going on. When that axe was buried into my chest, I had already won. You caved, Damien. You became the thing you are now.” 

_**“And I have nothing but hatred towards you and wanting justice done for me, for Celine, for that soul trapped in the mirror, for everybody,”**_ Dark tightened his grip. 

What he wasn’t expecting was a harsh kiss from Mark, the entity was drawn back from it, but the pause after the actor had kissed him spoke volumes; Mark grabbed Dark’s face, bringing it in for another hard kiss. The actor saw the dumbfounded look on the being’s face, lightly chuckling. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Mark purred, licking Dark’s neck and pecked his chin. “Hearing you say you hate me … calling me a relic, ancient history … me, a piece of ephemera myself … my dear Dark … my sweet Damien … show me how you really feel …”

Dark’s breath hitched and breathed heavily, mind unsure what to make of this, but did it drive him mad; he harshly locked lips back with the actor, biting at the other’s bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. He grasped Mark’s head, going in for another deep hateful kiss. The words sunk further in Dark’s mind - _‘I hate him, I hate him, I hate him …’_ , every time he saw that smirk on the actor’s face, he wanted to slap it off. He gripped the hair on the top of Mark’s head, delivering a few slaps to his face. 

Mark grinned at the smacks but that only brought more stinging slaps to his smirking, chuckling before full on laughing. “That’s it! Show me how much hatred you have for me,” he giggled. “But tell me … how’s that body been these days? Do your bones creak? Do your muscles ache like hell? I bet every time you wake up you wished you had your body back. And I bet you strain and ache and cramp with each step you take. While you go day to day in that broken shell, I remain youthful, spry.”

Dark snarled, punching Actor right in the nose, watching the blood leak down Mark’s face, the actor burst out laughing. Dark let go of Actor completely, cracking his neck from side to side, letting his slight slump over posture he always keeps having to correct speak for itself; he was always straightening himself, keeping a poise about him, head and chin high, chest out, the domineering aura and demeanor about him keeping everyone on their toes to not see through the curtain. That when alone, Dark cried out from the pain this tattered body brought to him; he always hid the pain, internally grimacing with each movement - the broken back from the fall did not heal.

Actor lightly smirked at the subtle defeated look he saw Dark take on, now taking some pity on him as he put an arm around Dark’s shoulders, leading him to a bedroom space. “Why don’t we have a more appropriate setting, hm?” The actor undressed, Dark glaring at him as Mark showed off his body, how it maintained a natural glow - he wanted to rip the actor’s soul out of it. He just wanted to rip Mark to pieces, the hate rising in him again. 

_“I hate you.”_

“Pretty obvious, wasn’t it?” Mark smirked, laying on the bed in a display of random poses. “If you hate me so much … show me instead of telling me.”

Dark growled, climbing onto the bed as he pinned Mark’s wrists down, harshly biting and kissing along his jaw and neck, planting a few deep kisses on his lips. The actor hummed and chuckled while Dark’s cold touch tickled his frame, he spread his legs wider, teasing his hole and stroked his cock, giving a wink and sticking his tongue out briefly. Dark gave a short roar, inky black tentacles emerged from his back, pinning the actor’s limbs and body down; one appendage wrapped around his throat and squeezed, the actor panting weakly, eyelids fluttering and turning the corners of his mouth up in a wide smile. Hands above his head and legs lifted and spread wider, his ass a few inches off the bed.

He hated that smile, that demonic smile; Dark worked his cock out, wetting it and got it hard enough, making two of his fingers wet and unceremoniously shoved them inside Mark’s waiting hole, the actor unleashing a deep moan. Letting his anger and hatred drive him, Dark fingered Mark’s ass until he swapped his digits for his length, sinking it in slow; the actor’s eyelids fluttered, relaxing his hole as it welcomed Dark’s chilling shaft. 

“That’s it … you hate me so much you’d want to fuck me, show your dominance over me … is that it? Is this what you want?”

 _ **“Silence your tongue,”**_ Dark clamped his hand over the actor’s mouth. _**“You always were a whore towards men … I’ve seen the looks and coy displays whenever a male fancied your eye … you …”**_ he faintly shook, drawing a brief memory, _“I remember that night you came into the guest room I was in. How you laid against me … touch … touching me so tenderly …”_ Dark shook more, remembering it well now, feeling the hurt and betrayal sink in as he stared into Mark’s brown eyes. _**“You said you loved me … and like a fool I believed it … we … we were happy for a while then … things didn’t go like we wanted, but you kept sending me letters. But …”**_ Dark fought back tears, snarling, _**“But you took everything from me. My heart. My sister. My body …”**_

He roared again, frantically thrusting his hips in a harsh pace, growling and grunting as he pounded the actor’s ass; Mark moaned loudly against Dark’s hand, eyes smiling and twinkling as he was fucked hard. _**“You aren’t eternal … you’re a relic … ephemera … I don’t wish death on you,”**_ Dark removed his hand, going up to add pressure onto Mark’s pinned wrists, _**“I wish for you to be forgotten. And I hate you more than anything.”**_

Dark pounded into the actor, his lips in a permanent snarl, growling and roaring now and then as he put Mark through the ringer; the actor enjoyed every second of this, relishing in Dark’s words. He missed Damien, he wondered when it would come the time to see him again. Once he felt one of his wrists come free from Dark’s hand and the tentacle, he brought it up to caress the entity’s cheek, cupping it. Dark shot daggers into Actor’s blissful gaze, feeling the hurt again mixing in with his hatred, fueling the feral pace he thrusted at, giving a few more final pushes before slamming his hips into Actor’s ass and cumming hard inside him. Mark came on his chest, his untouched length twitched and throbbed, heavily panting from the experience. 

The tentacles withdrew, morphing back into Dark, the entity shivering and almost sobbing. There was a small part of Damien that missed Mark … this was the closest he’d ever get to feeling something again. He loomed over Mark, the actor gently cupping the other side of his face; Dark softly whined, leaning into the touches - why … why was he craving this affection on top of all the hatred he had for the actor? He pulled out of Mark, weakly giving out and collapsed to the other’s side. The actor held Dark close, the entity grumbling and growling but couldn’t bring himself to move, he could only vocally protest but even those fell on deaf ears. 

_“I … h-h-hate you …”_

“Let it out, darling. Let it out.” 

_“I h-h-hate what you’ve done to us … I was a fool giving you the benefit of the doubt … and I was a fool for letting you woo and cherish me … you’re a selfish man … sadistic … cruel …”_

“I don’t suppose me saying I’ve changed some will help you …” 

_“No, it won’t … you say that, but you’ll keep playing your mind games … your manipulations … nothing about you will change. You’re still the same snake … just a different skin.”_

“While some of that is true … I haven’t always been like that.” He kissed the top of Dark’s head. “You know that.” He attempted to rise and get dressed but felt Dark’s hold of him gently squeeze. 

_“Please stay a little longer …”_ came the quiet plea from Dark after a silent moment of looking at him with a perked brow. 

Mark lightly sighed through his nose, getting comfortable in the bed. “Of course, Damien.” He kissed his forehead. “I’ll stay a little longer, darling.” 


	30. Wanna See?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 30 - Mask/exhibition/wound reveal
> 
> Characters - Host, Actor Mark, random character

The Host mused to himself as he walked amongst the crowd at a public event, speaking of the sights and sounds around him. It was a masquerade ball hosted by Actor, Host never met the man but wanted to pay his respects by thanking him. 

Host inquired a person on the whereabouts of the actor, the person commenting on his mask he wore - it wasn't anything special, half mask with the mouth area exposed, the eyeholes covered in a dark mesh. 

"I know it's supposed to be a ball where people's faces aren't meant to be exposed but," the person paused, Host narrated to himself internally as he registered their want to get laid with someone, "I bet you're rather cute underneath that mask. Care to show me?"

Host smirked. "I suppose no harm done. I've been told I have the prettiest eyes. Want to see?" Getting a nod, he removed the mask and his bandages around his eyes at the same time, revealing his ever fresh wounds that were his gouged out eyes. 

"It wasn't known to everyone, but, the Host was one to get excited in a sexual manner about exposing his bloody eyes to a random stranger in public," he mused aloud, feeling his pants bulge from the person's reaction. "They were mistaken and regretted to ever ask him to reveal his face. So shocked, so taken aback by the gory sight," he paused, stifling a moan as he registered the disgust from the other person, feeding from their reaction and from his exhibitionist tendencies that he pulled his hardening length out, stroking it, "that the added exposure of his cock made them come to a fight or flight moment. Do they stay and watch? Or do they run off?"

The person was indeed conflicted with that instinct, their jaw was dropped at the sight of his oozing eyes and his hard shaft he was stroking. Here - in a public place and event of all things, the man continued to narrate the events unfolding, the very moments playing out in real time as he spoke.

"It seems they were frozen, unable to make up their mind," Host grinned. It was true, they were too dumbfounded to move. "Footsteps approached the pair, he had the aroma of cigar smoke, aged scotch, and cedar and sandalwood. The enigmatic and charismatic planner and host to this soiree had a delectable smirk on his lips."

"How right you are," Actor grinned, watching the display. His mask he wore was that of a fox, detailed with red and black in intricate patterns. "Looks like someone got more than they asked for." He unbuttoned a few on his shirt, smirking more as he opened his shirt.

"The Actor took upon himself to participate and seemed to be one exhibiting himself as well," the Host narrated, smiling. "Like an old soul and friend, kinship was formed between the two men as they showed off. The Host with his missing eyes and the Actor …" He trailed off as he shudders. "The Actor with a bandaged wound he pulled back to reveal a gun shot to the heart, his chest scarred over in multiple spots. He smiled even wider, wishing he could show off his whole scarred body to the public, but kept to himself for posterity. He reapplies the bandage, and closes his shirt …"

Host groaned cumming into his hand, panting. "The dumbfounded person finally found the will and strength to flee from this abhorrent site, rushing to seek safety among their friends." And off that person did run. Host returned to narrating quietly and internally to himself as Actor came over with a handkerchief, handing it to the Host. 

"A fellow soul indeed," Actor clapped Host on a shoulder. "Come, let's be more among … others like us, hm?"

"I would very much like that indeed," Host grinned.


	31. Pick Your Brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 31 - "You cannot run"/Aftercare/experiment
> 
> Characters - Reader, Googleplier

"Okay, Google, run 'Playtime' mode."

The android snapped its gaze at you, a devious stare came to their eye. "Playtime mode engaged. How may it service you today?"

You let out a brief breath, shivering a bit as you explained, "How curious are you about the inner workings of the human mind?"

"Rhetorical question. I have thousands of data on the workings of the human brain in its core primary information banks."

You nodded. "Right. But I … want to run a simulation, if you will."

"Simulation," Google's brows furrowed. 

You nodded. "Yes, but I will let you decide the content of the simulation."

Google nodded, they paused briefly. "I wish to experiment with mental play. Despite its primary function to destroy humanity, that module has evidently been tampered with and I cannot engage that action. However, to satisfy that function, it proposes a simulation of having a captured human to experiment on. Does the user agree to this?"

Mental play did intrigue you, you contemplated it, giving a nod. "I agree."

Google grinned maniacally. "Very well. It recommends it pursues its captive and capture them however I see fit. Does user agree to this?"

You faintly shivered. That sounded exciting. "I agree."

"Very well." The android's posture changed, straight and ready to charge. "Then run."

You were caught off guard by the command but you bolted out of the room and down the stairs, coming into the living room and tried to find a place to hide. You heard Google's footsteps descend, the android's footfalls were barely audible. 

"You cannot run. There is nowhere to hide. Resistance is futile, human."

God he sounded so close. You held your breath for as long as you can, taking sparse breaths now and then. "I can sense atmospheric pressure. I'll know where you're hiding." Shit … this frightened and excited you. As you mused and fantasized the door to the closet you hid in opened, Google standing over you with a triumphant look on his face.

"You cannot run, human. I've found you."

He laid you down on the fold away massage table, laying straps across you and tied you down. It came to the head of the table, slipping a blackout blindfold over your eyes; Google dimmed the lights and came back over, hooking up an auxiliary to the audio port on its body. It began to run a thrumming beat, the frequency making you hazy. 

"Running experimentation on human subject. I will begin by reducing their consciousness and penetrating into their subconscious." Google ran a trance induction on you, bring you down lower and lower into a hypnotic state, his voice making your mind and body relax to great lengths. "Level of subconscious reached. Beginning autopsy of their brain."

You felt his hands start to massage your scalp, gently vibrating. "They will feel my external neural networks pierce their skull and attach to their mind." His fingers gave small soft shocks to your head, your flinched a bit in your restraints, mind bringing up the sensation of hookups being linked into you. 

"Neural interface complete. Stimulating the brain at random." A shock here, a shock there, you felt the manipulations of your mind by its systematic and administered jolts to certain areas. You were vulnerable and under its mercy, Google toying with you, experimenting with various areas of your mind. At one point the stimulating was too great as your body shook and twitched, babbling unintelligibly; Google smirked, it pressed on, overrunning your mind with other administered shocks. 

Some straps were undone as he manipulated your motor function, an arm raised, a leg bent. "Experimentation of the human mind nearing completion. Conclusion - system analysis reports of many neural networks in the organic material, it is recommended that the human's own data be uploaded into the mainframe of this android to aid it in its quest to understand humanity in order to destroy it. This data will be useful to its primary function. Downloading organic data fifteen percent …" Your whole body vibrated, mostly feeling the sensation in your mind. "Thirty percent … fifty percent. All of the data extraction from the human brain now seventy-five percent."

The stronger the vibration and faster the pulsing shocks, you were really going off the deep end into complete mindlessness. And it felt amazing, sinking down and down. "Data extraction eighty-four … ninety-two … sinking further down into feeling empty in your mind, completely blank … ninety-seven … data extraction one hundred percent. Extraction complete, the human's brain is devoid of all thought, all consciousness, it is empty, blank."

You had already felt like you were sinking further into the depths below in your mind, feeling completely blank and empty. And now you were floating in nothingness. It gave you a newfound peace of mind. Google took the time to plant a hypnotic trigger for further use, subsequently bringing you back up to consciousness. He pulled the blindfold away as you reached alertness, snapping his fingers as you woke. 

"Rate this experiment based on a one to five scale. One being never engaging in this again and five being excellent experiment, would do it again."

"Five, or … four and a half?" Google nodded, keeping note of your response. 

He undid all the straps, carrying you to the bed, laying a blanket over you as it went to fetch you a glass of water. They joined you in bed, holding you close to them. You felt a pulse machine in its chest rhythmically beat like a heart would, pressing your ear against it. They handed you the water when you needed it, the android giving the required affection to comfort you after a scene.

"Any further comfort tools in aftercare?"

"No, Google, this is just fine. Thank you." 

Google gave a small smirk, petting your hair. You nuzzled your face into their chest, feeling and hearing that heartbeat pulse machine, lull you to sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made this far, I'd love to hear from you if you've read all of them! I had a lot of fun writing these. I honestly thought I'd be burnt out halfway through the month when I started writing them, but I was surprised when I made it through to the end! 
> 
> I had thought about uploading these originally back in October, but wanted to give it time before doing a mega upload of all of them into one thing. Figured now was the right time. 
> 
> Any kudos and comments are appreciated!


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